


Roads Untravelled

by suhossineun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Biomechanical Bodyparts, Blood, Blood and Injury, Graphic Description, Improvised Medical Procedures, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Military, Military Backstory, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smuggling, Surgery, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 20:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 60,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suhossineun/pseuds/suhossineun
Summary: Helping Junmyeon, a beautiful slave, escape his owner and flee from Lost Seoul to Busan perimeter was supposed to be a simple job that would make Chanyeol rich, and finally give him the means to settle down.Things couldn't go more terribly wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [prompt #34]
> 
> Writing this story destroyed me in the best and worst ways possible. When I saw this prompt, I knew it was going to be a wild ride, but man did I underestimate this beast. I've never pushed myself like this as a writer, and well, I'm not sure how I feel about the end result yet- but I hope that you all, my readers, can enjoy this. Huge thanks to my beta for much needed feedback and support.
> 
> As for the warnings, there's really only one slightly graphic scene in the story. You'll see it coming, so it'll be easy enough to skip if you need to.

Chanyeol can smell the burning before he even opens his eyes. That’s how he knows he’s in Lost Seoul- the smell, it never leaves. It could be the brightest of days, the winds could be sweeping across the lands at the speed of a hurricane, yet nothing will ever take away the putrid smell of polluted smog lingering everywhere. 

It’s one of the many reasons why he doesn’t like this city. 

He throws the blankets off his body and rolls out of bed, sore and stiff like always, his parts squeaking uncomfortably before the mechanisms kick back into gear and start whirring again. The sleep mode is annoying and has risked his life many times with the couple of seconds that it takes to bring all systems online because in a battle situation, those seconds are crucial, but he hasn’t found a way around that. Maybe a newer model could help solve the problem, but he knows that getting his hand on one is easier said than done. 

His base in Lost Seoul is small, a tiny hut in the slums spreading east of the city along what used to be the Han river. But it has everything he needs; his bed, a corner for cooking, running water on most days. Out here, it’s as safe as it gets, which is why he stays here every time he’s in town although he does make an effort not to linger. The smoke, the army, the way he feels watched- it’s not a good place to be. 

Chanyeol washes up, scrubbing his face roughly with his hand and even splashing some water in his hair. A proper shower, or even a bath, are both luxuries he can’t usually afford. And he drinks, drinks until his stomach is full with it, grateful for every drop even if the water again tastes like copper. But things don’t taste like they should, they never do, unless he manages to buy army rations. But those times are few and far between. 

He eats a little and then gets dressed, mindful of the time. Although the eastern slums are where he likes to stay when he’s here, today he has to venture further into the heart of the city. A meeting has been arranged-and he was promised a lot of money for this, if it all works out, so he’s more than a little intrigued. High price tags always come with a lot of risk, but as a smuggler, there’s nothing but risk for him anyway. 

Wrapping a scarf over and around his head for protection, and placing the gas mask over his mouth, he heads outside. The narrow staircase leading up to his hut, built on top of many others similar to it, squeaks like his arm as he descends, his heavy boots shaking the contraption with each step. But no one pokes their head out of the windows or doorways to see. 

The less you meddle with anything, the better, the safer it is. 

He has an electric bicycle, but he doesn’t want to take it with him now when he has to go through the city gates. It could be so easily taken away from him by a soldier got intrigued, or saw an opportunity to make money by selling it forward. So Chanyeol marches forward on foot, keeping a steady pace and his head down as he weaves through the narrow streets and alleys. It’d be so easy to get lost here, but he knows this place like the back of his hand. The labyrinth protects many criminals like him, keeping the officials and the army away even if their tanks could easily mow down the poorly maintained buildings in this area. But then what would they do with all the displaced people? Riots and chaos are not what the government wants, so the slums get to stay. 

It’s still an early morning, the sky an ugly shade of orange as the sun is rising behind the thick layer of clouds and smoke. It’s very rare to see the sun in Lost Seoul, which is both a curse and a blessing. A curse, because there’s just something about the very human nature that craves to see it, but a blessing, because its rays burn and blister your skin all too easily. Chanyeol heard once that it has something to do with the gas surrounding the earth, but he doesn’t know if he trusts that or not. As a smuggler, only practical knowledge matters; if the information can’t keep him alive, then it’s no use. 

Once he nears the edge of the slum, he hops on a train headed to the city gates. It’s crowded, full of people headed to the city for work, all of them avoiding eye contact behind their scarves, gas masks, other protective gear to shield them from the constant cloud of pollution hanging over the city. No one wants any trouble, no one wants to be noticed. And neither does Chanyeol. He squeezes inside but is careful not to touch anyone, careful not to look at anyone, and just holds on until they get to the gates, the old, beaten up train painfully pushing forward along its tracks. In the lost city, the tracks run underground, but no one bothered with that much trouble when they built these lines that struggle to connect the city to the habitation around it. 

At the gates, the train comes to a stop, and everyone gets out, files into the long lines for ID checks at the gates. No one gets in or out of the city without documentation- but Chanyeol has more false names and identities than he can count. He doesn’t even break a sweat anymore, illegally entering the closed city, using a fake ID chip on his biomechanical arm on the scanner to be allowed in. The armed soldiers patrolling around the gates with their stasis pistols, they don’t scare him. They’re too dumb to recognize a smuggler even when he stares them in the eyes. 

Once he’s through, he speeds up his pace, pushing through the crowds with purpose now. He doesn’t even look up at the bright lights, the tall buildings, the symbols of power and wealth that signal of the importance of the people who are allowed to live inside. He’s seen it, many times, and it means nothing to him now. Chanyeol used to dream, but he doesn’t anymore- he knows that he will never live in those riches, no matter what he does. 

He doesn’t even feel anger anymore. It’s no use. The world will never change, no matter how unfair it is. 

But not even the rich can escape the smoke, the smell, and so he doesn’t lower his gas mask. The buildings here are nicer though, cleaner, decorated with technology that is decades outdated but still much more advanced than most people in the slums ever get to have. Air scrubbers, air conditioning, illusion panels for windows- you’d never see those in the outskirts of Lost Seoul. The center of the city is even nicer, technology getting better and better, buildings growing taller the further in you go. Out there beyond the walls, people are lucky to have solar panels for power sources.

The subway would get him to his destination faster, but that would require him to scan his ID chip again to get in, and he doesn’t want to leave any trails of where he’s been or where he’s gone. Chanyeol has only lived this long on paranoia alone, and he isn’t about to change his ways now. He marches forward, weaving up and down streets, keeping his head down. His clothes don’t stand out too much from the crowd, on the outskirts of the city, for which he’s grateful for.

He arrives at a tall building, much like those surrounding it, and slips inside. Chanyeol marches up to the elevators and steps in, before punching in the secret code on the virtual keypad. While number codes are very easy to crack, they’re also the most impersonal security system you can have; no one who comes here wants their chips tracked. Numbers, they can be retold to the wrong person, but they give nothing away, and sometimes that is necessary. But just in case, Chanyeol uses his right arm to punch in the code, just to make sure the keypad can’t scan his fingerprints. His biomechanical parts have their pros, sometimes. 

The elevator plummets downwards, a bit shaky but Chanyeol doesn’t even blink an eye. When the doors finally open, he’s far underground, even below the subway system. When others built higher, Yixing dug down deeper, and Chanyeol applauds him for that. You can never know who’s watching you back through your illusion panels on your windows, and none of Yixing’s visitors want that. 

He lowers his gas mask at last, and enters the pleasantly decorated lobby. There’s a giant screen on the wall with videos of the Old World playing, everything so deceitfully lush and green, and a set of low couches around it. Everything is painted white otherwise, really drawing attention to the screen that covers almost the entire wall. Yixing did always have an affinity for the Old World that Chanyeol could not really understand- why waste time dreaming of something that has been forever lost? 

Yixing’s secretary sits behind her desk and merely gives Chanyeol a nod upon seeing him; he visits here frequently enough that his face has become recognizable. Chanyeol nods back to her and when she gestures for him to go forward, he heads to Yixing’s office. The door swings open in front of him, and he walks inside without a pause. 

The office room quite matches the lobby, complete with the screen, the white walls, and the low couches. But there are also shelves mounted on the walls, displaying the entirety of Yixing’s collection of Old World items. The gadgets, the relics, the images, they would probably be a cause for awe in anyone else, but Chanyeol has seen all of this many times before. What is new, however, is the person seated on Yixing’s couch. They’re wearing a hood over their head, though, so Chanyeol can’t see their face, which immediately puts him on edge, even though he knows well how people who have nothing to hide tend to be the most dangerous. 

“Ah, you’re here.” Yixing stands up to greet him, patting him on the shoulder once before pointing at the couch that he was seated on. “Come on, sit down. Can I get you anything?” 

“If you have something expensive,” Chanyeol says gruffly, causing Yixing to laugh. “I sure do,” Yixing sing-songs. “Siri, pour us some of that Sichuan liquor.”

The automated bartending system mounted in the wall whirs and chirps, doing as told. Chanyeol raises his eyebrows. “Sichuan liquor? Where’d you get that?” he wonders out loud, reaching for one of the three glasses. “I thought nothing was getting out of Sichuan at the moment.” 

“One of my ships successfully raided a pirate ship on the Yellow sea not too long ago.” Yixing takes the two remaining glasses, placing one in front of the hooded figure before he sits down next to Chanyeol, swirling his drink delicately. “I got all sorts of interesting items out of that loot. The pirates, they really know what they’re doing. Why do I even bother with the army ships anymore, when the criminals have all of the good stuff?”

Chanyeol laughs with him, and takes a sip of the alcohol. It’s strong, it burns, yet it’s way more refined than anything he’s gotten his hands on as of late, so he savors it. Yet the hooded guest still doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even move. All Chanyeol can see now are their pale hands, gripping their knees tightly- a sign of nervousness. Are they afraid, or planning something stupid, Chanyeol doesn’t know, and can only try and trust Yixing’s judgment. He doesn’t usually do trust because it only ever gets him in trouble, but Yixing wouldn’t do that to his most valuable smuggler south of the old border. 

So he hopes. 

“So, what gives?” he asks after another sip of the drink. Yixing chuckles, shaking his head. “Always straight to the point, my friend,” he replies, seemingly amused. “But I guess you’re too used to the life on the road. Always one foot out of the door already.” 

“Keep it moving, so you don’t get caught,” Chanyeol replies dryly. “And I don’t like wasting anyone’s time. Mine, yours, or your guest’s. Or client’s.” 

“That’s a good policy.” Yixing sets his glass down on the low table in front of them before he leans back once more. “So. This is a bit of an unusual request- and I know that you never do this sort of thing, so you don’t even have to tell me that you don’t. I know. But that is also why there’s a lot of money on the table- more than you’d make in two, three gigs. So hear me out.” 

“You did say that there’s a lot of risk involved. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t interested.” Although it doesn’t sound promising that even Yixing admits this is a lot to ask from Chanyeol. The merchant doesn’t usually worry so much about Chanyeol’s preferences or comfort when handing him jobs to do.

Yixing nods his head, directs his gaze at the hooded figure. “The job is for you to smuggle a person out of Lost Seoul.” 

Chanyeol immediately has his hackles raised at Yixing’s simple statement. He never smuggles people, absolutely never, because it’s just too messy. Too risky. Smuggling goods, that he can handle, but being in charge of another human being, or several- no. Hard pass. But Yixing knows his stance on this, and wouldn’t offer him a gig like this if he didn’t think that there’s something enticing about it. Probably the money that was promised. 

“Smuggle who? Where to? Why do I need to smuggle them?” Chanyeol isn’t going to agree to this until he has all the necessary details. Yixing simply nods his head towards the still silent guest. “He can answer those for himself. It’s him who wants to get smuggled out.”

Chanyeol turns his attention back to the hooded figure who at first remains unmoving. But then, slowly, he raises his hands, grabs the edge of his hood, and pulls it down to his shoulders. 

The contrast could not be any starker. The dark hood and the cape against the man’s pale skin, his blond hair, he looks almost like a ghost. Yet Chanyeol can instantly tell what and who he is, by the collar around his neck. He’s an owned man, and judging by his beauty, one for amusement, pleasure, company, rather than hard work or even housekeeping. 

Slavery used to be a thing of the past, the very idea of it abolished even before the turn of the millennium. But it has become rampant again, spread within the corruption and ill morals of the untouchable government. The loss of democracy paved way for a lot of social ills, this being one of them. Chanyeol has never felt anything but disdain for it, his free spirit horrified of the idea of being tied down, of being ordered around like a dog. It’s one of the many reasons why he didn’t last in the army either. 

He’s seen slaves, of course. Their beauty makes them hard to miss, although they’re not often allowed outside. How this slave even got to Yixing’s office, he can only wonder. But as much as Chanyeol feels a bit taken back by the man and his social status, the man seems also a bit startled- he can’t take his eyes off Chanyeol’s biomechanical arm, not for long, glancing back to it nervously every few seconds. Chanyeol can’t say if it’s genuine fear, or just morbid curiosity. 

But now he has an answer to one of his questions. No slave would be able to leave Lost Seoul on their own- they have no identity chips, and thus would not be let out of the gates. At the very least, the poor thing needs someone to forge him one, and even then, he would run the risk of being caught by the soldiers. This man would never pass for a commoner.

“I need your help,” the slave says, licking his lips. He’s visibly shaking, but his eyes are hard as steel. “I need to get out of here. I need to get away from my master. And Yixing says you’re the best of the best. I’ll pay you anything.” 

“What kind of money does a slave have?” Chanyeol bites back. He isn’t one to be moved by sob stories. He’s heard way too many. “How are you going to pay me for my services?”   
The man’s lips press into a thin line. “I’ve been preparing for this moment for years,” he replies. “I am no fool. I don’t know much about the world, but I know that it runs on money and riches. And I have that. I am not above stealing from my master, as a payment for the years I’ve spent with him.”

“I’ll make sure that it’s all legit, before sending you anywhere,” Yixing speaks up. “He’ll make the payment to me, and I’ll transfer it to you. No traces, no nothing. I’ll guarantee that it’s the real deal before you step a foot outside of this building. And if it’s not… Well, you know what I do with scammers.” Yixing’s smile is sharp, meaningful- Chanyeol would not want to make enemies with him, he knows that much.

Yixing’s reassurance means more than the man’s word, but at least Chanyeol is slightly placated now. “And how much are we talking?” he asks. “And what kind of operation are we talking? There’s a difference between just taking you outside the gates, or taking you somewhere further than that.” 

The man takes his first sip of the drink Yixing poured earlier, wincing at the taste, obviously unused to such strong liquor. “Yes, I want further away,” he says, his voice a little deeper, huskier from the alcohol. “I was thinking- Busan perimeter. I want to sail to Japan, if I can. I heard- I heard things are nicer, there.” 

It’s not the best plan Chanyeol’s ever heard, but not the worst. Leaving the country is going to be the man’s best choice in staying alive, and march up north to China would be infinitely more challenging than heading south and sailing across the sea. Besides, China is not so welcoming of refugees- hasn’t been for a hundred years, now. 

But still. Busan perimeter. “That’s a long trip,” he says. “And no offense, but I don’t know if you’re cut out for it. You don’t look particularly strong.” 

The man shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he insists. “I don’t care. I can die on the way- it doesn’t matter. For as long as I get out, get away, I don’t care. Even if you can’t get me to Busan perimeter, you can keep the money. I don’t care.” 

That is a startling statement. People usually care more about staying alive- especially if they’re putting everything on the line to run away from something. Is this how tired of living the man is? Chanyeol isn’t sure how he feels about it.

“I sure as hell am not heading out there on a suicide mission,” he says, and takes another sip of his drink. “If you’re gonna have that kind of attitude, you’re just going to get me killed as well.”

“Then I’ll fight.” The man doesn’t even hesitate in his answer. He’s still shaking, but he meets Chanyeol’s eyes head on. “Then I’ll do my best to survive. If that’s your condition. I’ll do anything. I’ll pay you anything.”

“How much money?” 

Everyone has a price. 

“3 million.” The man says it’s like it’s nothing- and perhaps for someone who’s lived in immense wealth, even if as a slave, it is nothing. But Chanyeol can never make that much money on a single smuggling trip alone, not even if he was smuggling gallons of Sichuan liquor. Three million… he could do a lot with that kind of money.

He understands now why Yixing wanted him to hear this. 

“Is that negotiable?” he says anyway, carefully concealing his excitement. Yixing snorts next to him, but doesn’t say anything. The merchant knows that Chanyeol is just being greedy. 

“It’s my final price. I know it’s a good one- I know it’s more than you would have asked for, if I had made you name your price first.” The man isn’t even phased. So he does have more personality than his frail body and beauty would suggest- Chanyeol can respect that. He’s smart, too- not falling for Chanyeol’s attempt at pushing for more. And he’s right. Chanyeol would not have named a number that high, even if he had been given the chance to ask for anything. 

It really makes him wonder if he’s selling himself short on most gigs. 

“And you pay for any expenses?” he asks. “I might need to get you a forged identity chip, depending on how we decide to get you out of town, suitable clothes and gear, food for the trip… Someone has to cover all that.”

“I’ll transfer the money you need to Yixing. It’s not an issue.” Again, no hesitation. “How soon can we move?” At that, his voice gives away his desperation again, his eyes flashing fear. He wants away, urgently- Chanyeol can tell as much.

“That’s… that depends.” Plans like this aren’t easy to make. “It depends on a lot of things. How easy is it for you to get out of the house? How can we keep your escape a secret, to give us a head start? I doubt your master is going to just let you go, or otherwise you wouldn’t need me to smuggle you out of the city. Also deciding on how we’re going to get you through the gates and then preparing for that could also take a while.” 

The man presses his lips into a thin line. “I need to get out soon,” he whispers, desperation bleeding in even more. His exterior of contained panic is giving in to something more raw and honest, his urgency palpable. “I can’t… I can’t wait much longer. I’m sick of it, I’m so, so sick of it. I cannot last much longer. I have to get out as soon as you can take me. Please.”

Chanyeol can only shrug. “It’s just the name of the game. There’s not much I can do to speed things up. If you want things done well, that takes time.”

Somehow the panicked look in the man’s eyes makes him look younger, more fragile. Even if he holds himself up straight and shoulders squared, it’s obvious that on the inside, he wants to crumble. But his words, although they don’t come easy, promise the opposite. “I understand,” he replies, voice small. “I… I understand. I can get out of the house on most days, if I’m careful. If I leave in the morning, we get a few hours- my master usually doesn’t come back until late, and the staff wouldn’t come looking for me. So, just figure out a way for me to leave this city. I don’t care how much it costs.” 

Chanyeol weighs the situation carefully. Getting the man out of the city is one thing, but making their way to Busan perimeter is another. This is a long trip, and he doesn’t usually take others with him. He can tell that the slave isn’t going to be the best partner for such an arduous journey, not to mention the various kinds of trouble he runs into even on his own. If smuggling the man through the gates was the only hard part, he would be smuggling people all the damn time.

Perhaps his hesitation shows on his face, because the man leans forward in his seat. His eyes are dark and his lips trembling, yet he still holds Chanyeol’s gaze with his own. There’s such intensity there, his beautiful features settled into a tight expression that speaks of exhaustion, fear, and desperation. It almost makes Chanyeol want to recoil, turn away- there’s something there that will haunt him, when he goes to sleep at night.

“Please,” the man begs, his voice even quieter now. “Please, help me. You’re my only hope. My last hope. I’ve been waiting and preparing for so long… putting all my faith into this plan. Please, don’t sentence me to a life time of this suffering. Please. You’ll walk away a rich man, I promise you. I’ll do anything.”

And sob stories, they don’t move him. The slums, they’re full of suffering, far beyond what Chanyeol can even imagine. He shouldn’t listen to the calls of emotion when the decision needs to be made with rationality instead. Yet the man’s eyes… 

They’ll haunt him forever, and Chanyeol already has too many nightmares to begin with.

“Deal.” Chanyeol is not happy about this, none of this, but for three million- he’s willing to try. He’s risked his life for less in the past, that’s for sure. “I will deliver any news or instructions to you through Yixing, then, and you transfer him the money. I can’t make any promises- but you’ll hear from me within a week.”

The man almost deflates entirely, tension bleeding out of him with the rush of relief. But he’s able to gather himself and he nods, and stands up, extending his arm out for Chanyeol to shake. He’s still trembling, and his eyes are suddenly wet, but he blinks it away before it falls down his cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll be waiting. And by the way- my name is Junmyeon. I think it’s only appropriate you know my name because I fear we’re going to spend a lot of time together before we make it to Busan perimeter.” 

Chanyeol holds out his left hand instead, and it takes Junmyeon by surprise for a moment before the realization dawns on him. Chanyeol can’t shake hands with his right one, the biomechanical system only having three finger-like appendages at the end of it, like a thumb and two fingers. Junmyeon holds out his left hand with an embarrassed look, but Chanyeol doesn’t comment on it- this happens often enough. He takes his delicate hand, well-aware of the contrast of his calloused skin against the slave’s smooth palm. “I’m Chanyeol, but you probably already knew that. But if you don’t mind me saying this, I have one piece of advice to give you before your runaway- fatten yourself up. It’s tough out there, even when you aren’t already so skinny.” 

Junmyeon barks out a harsh laugh, looking startled by the sound himself, before pulling his hood back up. “Will do,” he simply says. “And thank you- thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You’ve saved me.” He seems unsure, like he wants to say more, but then decides against it and leaves the room with a short nod to Yixing. 

The door closes behind him, and Chanyeol sits back down with a heavy sigh, downing the rest of his liquor in one big gulp. Yixing laughs. “You have just received the mission and you’re already tired? How does that even make sense? You’re getting old, my man.” 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “It’s gigs like these that age me, and you know it,” he accuses, pointing his finger at Yixing. “Why did you arrange him to meet me? You know I hate messy jobs like this.” 

“Because the pay is so brilliant,” Yixing replies without missing a beat. “I told you. I know your type- money hungry, greedy, restless. Even if you say otherwise, I know you’re excited, deep down. If safe was what you wanted, you would have quit smuggling a long time ago. We both know it’s hard out there, but you’ve still got options easier than this. Yet here you are.”

“Yet here I am,” Chanyeol sighs, before he reaches for the cup Junmyeon left almost untouched, and drinks it empty too. “Well, I better get a move on, then- the new client seemed jumpy. Don’t know what kind of demons he’s running from, but he sure is eager to do so fast.” 

Yixing nods, then hesitates for a moment before he continues. “I feel bad for the kid,” he admits, which is quite uncharacteristic of him. Chanyeol didn’t know that he even was capable of feelings. “He’s clearly been through a lot, and has put a lot into this already. He really, really wants to get out, and we’re his only hope. You’re his only hope.” 

Chanyeol snorts and stands up briskly. “Yeah, yeah, enough of the sappy talk,” he shoots Yixing down. “Life is tragic, get over it. We’ve all been through some shit in our time. If that was all, I’ll be going now. I don’t have all day to just sit around and chat with you.” 

The look he gets from Yixing is strange, but he hides that expression away behind his usual façade of carefree mirth. “Fine. Stay in touch, alright? I need to be able to give the kid some sort of news about how your master plan is coming along.” 

“I’ll let you know.” 

As Chanyeol walks home, tracing back his footsteps from that morning, he can’t deny it- he feels alive, excited, eager. No matter how reluctant he is to take on dangerous jobs like this, once he does, he always finds himself quite looking forward to it, even if reluctantly. Yixing was right. A part of him does enjoy the danger of it all, even if at the same time it’s what eats at him alive. It’s his drug, his addiction.

This though… this could really put his life at risk. Dealing with stolen goods, illegal goods, that’s one thing, but a slave- he should have asked who owns Junmyeon, because that could increase the risk tenfold. But it’s too late now, the money is already on its way to him, and unfortunately, he’s a man of his word. He despises his own morality sometimes, but he also understands that it’s what has kept him with good terms with Yixing for this long. And without Yixing, he wouldn’t land even half of his jobs, so there’s that. 

He really has his work cut out for him here.

*****

Preparing everything isn’t as difficult as Chanyeol had anticipated. That puts him on edge again- things going well isn’t usually a good sign. If something doesn’t go wrong, it means that something will go even more wrong later. But nonetheless, a week later, he feels ready for the mission. He’s all set to put the wheels into motion. He lets Yixing know by calling him, the merchant’s upper body coming into hologram view from his phone. For safety measures, he has the blinds drawn, shabby looking but actually impossible to see or even hear through, and the disturbance field is on around his little hut; his humble home doesn’t look technologically advanced, but he’s equipped it as best as he could. The last thing he needs is for the army to catch his signals and spy on his phone conversations.

“Got good news for me?” Yixing asks when the call connects. Chanyeol can see his office chair in the hologram with him, so he’s at his office. “Junmyeon has been bothering me almost daily for updates.” 

“Almost like he doesn’t trust us to keep our word or something.” They share a laugh over Chanyeol’s dry quip. But even if Junmyeon doesn’t trust them, he’s in relatively good hands- Yixing prides himself in reliability when dealing with clients, because he finds it more lucrative to have repeat customers than stabbing everyone in the back and never have them return. It has proven to be a useful strategy. 

“But yes, I do have good news. I’ve got everything set up. I can go when he can go.” 

“What’s the plan? Am I allowed to know- how much is he allowed to know?” Yixing twirls a stylus in his fingers lazily, but his eyes are sharp as ever. 

“I prepared a cart, I’m going to use it to push him out of the city. Can’t have him walking around, he looks too different. I’m gonna fool the gate with two chips though, in case it scans us and recognizes two bodies going through. Should be idiot proof.” In theory- but things can change unexpectedly. But Chanyeol is an expert at handling surprising situations. 

“Sounds solid to me,” Yixing nods. “Unless they want to see what’s in your cart.” 

“Doubt it.” The soldiers at the gates tend to be lazy- their job is so mind-numbingly boring. “But of course, I’ll have a good cover up in case someone wants to poke through a pile of trash. I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

“We’re both too old,” Yixing sighs, shakes his head, his gaze wandering for a moment. Chanyeol knows what he means. “But alright. I’ll let him know, set up a date. You got the money?”

“I did.” And he already made sure that it’s safe and sound, dispersed across several different accounts. Using virtual money is a sure way to have it tracked, but he can’t walk around with that much physical- it’s just impossible. He’ll figure out something even more permanent once he gets back from the trip. “If Junmyeon can come over to your office to meet me, that’d be great. It’s not too far away from the gate, and having someone collect trash and recyclables into a cart wouldn’t seem too odd. I can’t show up like that to whatever neighbourhood he lives in.” 

“Agreed. Alright, I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear back.” 

With his plan all done and prepared for, Chanyeol is itching to put it to motion. Luckily, so is Junmyeon- Yixing messages him that night to inform him of the date and time they agreed on. It leaves Chanyeol with a couple more days of checking and checking everything again, which almost drives him stir crazy; he even takes apart his biomechanical arm to clean and maintain all the parts that need to be taken care of. He does it only rarely because it’s such a huge risk- what if someone walked in on him when he was down one arm, and tried to attack him, or he had to run away and leave those parts behind? Even with all the connections that Yixing has, coming up with new parts is extremely difficult and expensive. 

He should have thought of it when he was still in the army, shouldn’t he. 

But finally, the day comes. He sets out early in the morning, carrying his cart down from where he’s kept it safe in his hut. He has covered up his usual clothes with clothes for fit for someone who collects trash for a living; it’s an activity only done in the slums and in the very outskirts of Lost Seoul, looked down upon but also so necessary, when the city has given up on trying to organize it centrally. The sprawling slums that keep growing every single day are simply too unruly and out of control for anything- even supplying them with running water and electricity is a struggle. Yet more people keep coming, thinking that life will somehow get better closer to the government, closer to the army. And people stay, because they’re desperate, because they’re weak. 

Sometimes, it makes Chanyeol feel sick. 

His cart has a secret compartment at the bottom where he’s going to hide Junmyeon in, and on top, he piles up a small layer of trash; he’ll pick up more in the city, because it would look suspicious to go in with trash already piled up high. He ties only a piece of cloth around his face to protect himself from the thick smoke, and starts marching ahead, head down and shoulders hunched over, dragging his feet. He’s played this part many times before, and has it nailed down to perfection. 

The trip all the way to Lost Seoul does take longer because he can’t take the train with his cart. At the gates, he joins the line with others who have similar carts with them, some empty and some full of items they’re taking into the city. No one has the hover sleds or other fancier equipment to transport their goods; it’s all human labor for the poor. Some things never change, no matter how far technology comes. 

Chanyeol scans another one of his fake chips at the gate, and pushes through. No one spares him a second glance, although he makes sure to keep his biomechanical arm covered in his sleeve. While artificial body parts are quite common, fully mechanical limbs are not so typical, and could stick out even in a crowd like this. Chanyeol really can’t risk any soldier wanting to take a closer look, because the military grade parts would really rouse suspicion about his identity. 

His senses are on high alert, as he makes the trip to Yixing’s hideout. It’s very unlikely anyone would be following him, unless they’ve been found out and Junmyeon’s master has sent in people to stop Junmyeon from escaping and to punish those involved in his plans. Doesn’t seem likely, though- but Chanyeol’s paranoia is a way of life by now. He’s hyper aware of everything around him as he walks, taking in the most minute details, picking apart everything that seems out of the ordinary. Was that thing always there? Was that shop there when he last came here? Has he seen that man somewhere before, did he stare at him for too long? But he makes it to his destination without an incident. 

Thankfully Yixing’s elevators are wider than usual, and he can squeeze his cart in just fine. He punches in the code like always, and descends to the office level where nothing ever seems to change. The same woman sitting behind the desk, the same videos playing on the massive screen, the same sense of odd calm, like it could shatter at any moment but it still never does. An impossible balance that shouldn’t last yet it never tips over. 

He’s let into Yixing’s office, and he’s greeted by a very anxious looking Junmyeon and very perky Yixing. Usually it means that he’s trying to hide something, whether it’s excitement or nervousness. Chanyeol thinks his peace of mind is going to fare a lot better, if he doesn’t find out which one it is this time. 

“Are we all ready to go?” he asks gruffly as he pushes his cart in roughly. Junmyeon has only a small bag with him, which is good. He worried he might try to bring with him too much for their journey. “Did you get out of the house alright?” 

“I did,” Junmyeon says with a nod. He’s not wearing any makeup like he was last time Chanyeol saw him, and his hair isn’t combed as carefully either. He looks tired, his shoulders up and tense, his very posture depicting how ill at ease he is. “My master shouldn’t find out until hours from now. We’ll get a good head start.” 

“Perfect.” Chanyeol unravels the fabric from around his face to talk easier, before reaching over to his cart to open the secret compartment. He pulls out a change of clothes he acquired, and throws them at Junmyeon. “Change into those, and then we’ll head out. We better make sure we use that head start well.” 

Junmyeon catches the clothes, then looks around before a blush creeps up on his face. “I uh… Where…” 

Yixing cracks a crooked smile. “There are no changing rooms around here,” he drawls. “Just hurry up, Chanyeol is right. You need to get as far from here as you can.”   
Junmyeon looks down at his feet, clutching the clothes to his chest. He’s clearly very uncomfortable with the idea, but he slowly begins to move once more, setting down the clothes so he can take off his garments first. And while Chanyeol is no gentleman, he does have a sense of decency. He understands- he doesn’t like showcasing his arm either. So he turns away, looks around the office instead to avoid having to look to Junmyeon’s direction.

Once Junmyeon is out of his expensive clothes, he looks a lot smaller, a lot more like he belongs in the outside world. But not quite- his pale complexion and hair break the illusion. “We’re going to have to dye your hair later,” Chanyeol mutters with a shake of his head. “Alright, get in the cart. And you stay silent in there, no matter what happens, understood? Do not cough, do not sneeze, do not make any sort of noise. Just stay put, and stay silent. I’ll let you out when it’s safe.” He hands Junmyeon a gas mask to put on, so he can breathe a bit easier. The same holes that he made for ventilation are also going to let in dust, smoke, and sand, and none of those things are pleasant when they end up in your lungs.

“In- in there?” Junmyeon points at the cart, his eyes wide. “That’s how you’re… you’re going to get me out? But it’s so…” 

“So unassuming. Yes.” Chanyeol is getting antsy. He steps forward to grab Junmyeon’s bag, making him flinch as though worried Chanyeol might grab him instead, and throws it into the cart. “That’s the point. To look so unimportant that no one is going to look at me twice. I’m sorry it’s not posh enough for you.” 

“I never said that it needs to be fancy,” Junmyeon bites back, before he climbs into the cart with jerky movements, obviously pissed off. Fine, Chanyeol doesn’t care. For as long as he stops talking and gets in there. Junmyeon puts the gas mask on, and then curls up at the bottom of the cart, his bag in his arms, and closes his eyes as Chanyeol lowers the top back down.

“Make haste.” Yixing tells him as Chanyeol locks down the lid, to make sure it won’t fly open by accident. “It’s impossible to tell what kind of fuss his master is going to make out of this- he could send whole troops after you, he could send no one. I’ll keep an eye out, but if it’s discreet, I might easily miss it. So hurry up, and get out. Stay off the beaten path.” 

“I wasn’t born yesterday, and this is not my first dangerous mission,” Chanyeol huffs, wrapping the piece of fabric over his mouth and nose again. “I don’t need your lectures. I’ll come back as a rich man, so you better save some of that Sichuan liquor for me. I’ll buy a whole bottle off you.”

“You wish.” Yixing grins back at him, and just watches silently as Chanyeol pushes the cart out and lets the door slam closed behind him. 

Junmyeon is so small that his body weight doesn’t really hold Chanyeol back as he pushes the cart on the streets, but he has to stop and pick up trash to throw on top to make it seem like he’s been on a successful hunt for valuable recyclables in the city. Showing up at the gate with nothing in his cart would seem too suspicious, and he can’t risk getting searched.

He’d ask Junmyeon how he’s holding up, but he can’t exactly talk to his cart of trash very discreetly, so he leaves that idea alone. Junmyeon is probably feeling quite freaked out anyway and there’s just no helping that- Chanyeol already worries how his mental health is going handle the tough trip to Busan perimeter. Or his physical health. He’s such a tiny man, not used to hard physical activity, let alone danger. Getting him to Busan perimeter in one piece is going to be one hell of a task, he just knows it. But at least for once he feels like he’s getting paid enough to complete it. 

Getting to the gate takes a while, because he needs to collect the trash as he goes. He doesn’t like wasting their head start on this, but it’s a necessary part of his plan. Finally, the gate comes into view, together with the lines of people waiting to get out of the city. It’s not too busy, going to this direction, as most people are still coming in rather than leaving, and so he gets to the scanners in no time. 

Again, he makes sure to keep his head down, shoulders sagging forward, back hunched to make him look less tall, less threatening. Less confident in himself. At the scanner, though, he has to perform a bit of a maneuver; the scanner scans for humans walking through it, so it’ll sound an alarm if it detects a body going through without being checked with an ID. But at least he has an advantage most people don’t- his biomechanical arm. 

He has a part around the wrist of it that looks like a bracelet, but in fact, it has his fake ID chips hidden inside. He holds it up to the scanner once, to let it check his chip, but when the light blinks green, he angles his body so that the guard can’t see, and rotates the disk to the next ID chip and scans it as well, fidgeting like he’s impatient for the machine to work already. It’s only after the scanner blinks green the second time that he pushes his cart through and onto the road ahead. 

So simple, yet so effective. 

Instead of heading back to his hut, he steers south, quickening his footsteps the further away from the gate and the wall they get. There are never any soldiers in the slums, no police either unless they’ve been called in for a specific reason, and so he doesn’t have to be so cautious anymore, but he keeps his head down. The cart jostles up and down on the rough road, and it sounds like Junmyeon bumps his head against the lid a couple of times as well. The sound makes Chanyeol wince in solidarity, but he just sends a prayer for the poor bastard, hoping that he won’t get a concussion because of this. 

The walk isn’t too long at least, because Chanyeol knew that the sooner he could get Junmyeon out and walking on his own feet, the better. He has a small storage in this part of town, on a back alley lined with repair shops, small restaurants and other tiny businesses. It’s not ideal to have so many eyes on him, but at the same time he trusts those eyes to keep his belongings safe. The metal door rises up when he scans his iris to the security system, and he hurriedly pushes the cart inside, the door slamming back down behind him automatically. 

The lights flicker on, and Chanyeol wastes no time in throwing off all of the trash he collected on the way and unlocking the secret compartment. When he lifts up the lid of it, Junmyeon is still laying there as he was when he closed it; curled up like a tiny shrimp, his bag cradled in his arms. He looks disheveled, and his movements are stiff and awkward as he slowly pushes himself into a sitting position, eyes squinting in the bright lights. 

“Where’s this?” he croaks, before he clears his throat, one hand patting down his hair. “What’s this place?” 

“Just a pit stop, before we move forward,” Chanyeol replies. “I couldn’t get you out of there in broad daylight, now could I? Hurry up, we have to move.” 

Junmyeon climbs out of the cart, looking around with wide eyes. Not that there’s much to see; Chanyeol doesn’t store much in here, except for some supplies and repair tools. He’ll sometimes store his smuggled goods here as well, but he has none at the moment. And there is his backpack, that he picks up and heaves up on his back, securing the straps over his chest. Junmyeon copies his movements, although his bag is a lot smaller, a lot flimsier- it couldn’t survive repeated trips in the wild, and probably has nothing but clothes in it, but Chanyeol is just glad Junmyeon isn’t trying to haul too much with him. Just walking alone is going to be challenge enough. 

“Put your hood up, and let’s go.” Chanyeol only changes his outfit a little bit, replacing the cloth over his mouth with a proper gas mask, before he ushers Junmyeon outside. 

“Keep your head down, don’t look around like you’ve never seen all this before,” he instructs him under his breath as they step out on the street, when he sees that Junmyeon is about to do just that. “Anomalies stick out, alright, and right now you’re standing out like a fucking sore thumb. The less attention you draw to yourself, the higher the chances that no one will rat us out.” 

Junmyeon doesn’t reply, but bends his head down, and falls a step behind Chanyeol wordlessly, like a small, silent shadow. Chanyeol almost comments on it but then he realizes what it is- Junmyeon’s training. He’s been trained to behave like this, to trail behind his master like he doesn’t even exist. It’s a bit odd, it feels wrong, but Chanyeol doesn’t have time to delve into this right now. They just need to keep moving forward. 

“Stay close to me, don’t get lost,” he says under his breath, before he starts marching ahead. “And don’t talk. We don’t want anyone overhearing anything of importance.” 

The city has properly woken up now, the streets and alleys full of people, the dust being kicked into the air and crowds slowing them down. But Chanyeol also knows this part of town and this route like the back of his human hand, and so he just keeps pushing ahead, not stopping, only occasionally glancing back to make sure that Junmyeon is still there. He can tell the slave boy is already struggling to keep up, and Chanyeol has to sometimes reach back to grab him by the shoulder to hurry him along or to pull him through a tight spot just so that they wouldn’t get separated.

He knows he’s being harsh, and it reminds him uncomfortably of his military training days. Of how the weakest would fall down during their marches, be kicked around in the ground if they couldn’t get back up, how they were ridiculed and punished for being the first ones to fall. How those who had any mercy left in them would drag along the struggling ones, hauling them along like rag dolls, just to help them get a bit further, just to help them make it to the camp. It was grueling practice, and it hardened many hearts and souls to witness that.

It hardened Chanyeol as well, but not enough. Eventually, he had to leave. 

“Almost there, it’ll get easier,” he mumbles to Junmyeon and pats him awkwardly on the back. “Just try and keep up, the crowds will get smaller the further away we get.” 

“Where are we going? Out of the city?” Junmyeon asks. He sounds out of breath, scared. This must feel like they’re running away from someone chasing them right at their heels. And while that isn’t exactly true, Chanyeol would rather that he keeps moving with the adrenaline for as long as it’ll last, so he doesn’t say anything to ease his worries. 

“No, we have to make one more stop before we’ll leave. You’ll see.” 

The further down south they make their way, the shorter the buildings get and the narrower the streets become. There are less people here, and the huts are built from scrap pieces of metal and wood and other materials, put together even more hastily than where Chanyeol lives. The edges of the slums are always the newest, and populated by the latecomers, the ones who have yet to figure out how to survive in this world, and it’s evident everywhere around them. Yet Chanyeol doesn’t spare it a second glance, just marching forward. It’s almost noon, and they still have ways to go today. 

They finally make it to his second storage space. This one he uses a lot less, just because the area is not as safe and he can’t trust that whatever he brings here, will stay there for long. But for today, he felt it would be much quicker to save picking up the last part of their supplies until last, so they wouldn’t have to weave through the crowds with the big hover sled in tow. 

Here, he only has manual locks. They’re old fashioned and quite laughable, but this area doesn’t get a lot of electricity and installing solar panels would only invite someone to steal them, so physical locks are his only choice. He flips out the keys from a compartment in his biomechanical arm, quickly unlocking all of them, before hauling the metal door up. 

Junmyeon steps forward, but Chanyeol ushers him right back. “We’re not going to linger,” he says, and reaches into the dark space to grab his sled, the motion sensors bringing the mechanisms back to life and the sled lifting off the ground as it rolls forward and out of the storage. It’s a simple device; a metal frame, like a big snow sled, but beneath it, it has hovers so it stays above the ground, taking power from its solar panels. Chanyeol wastes no time in slamming the door back down, and locking it back up. 

Junmyeon is staring at the sled with wide eyes although there’s nothing really unusual about it. It’s big for sure, and bulky, since it’s an old model, but it still works and that’s what matters. It doesn’t have a fancy hard cover to go over whatever is inside because Chanyeol sometimes needs to transport massive objects with it and so he can’t have such limitations, so he has it wrapped up in water resistant fabrics and straps to keep everything in place and protected. 

“Never seen one of these before?” he asks as he straps the sled to his belt. No use in asking Junmyeon to do any physical labor, although pulling the sled isn’t exactly hard work. He starts walking immediately, and can hear Junmyeon scurrying along to keep up with him. 

“There are… a lot of things I’ve never seen before,” Junmyeon murmurs, his voice quiet. “A lot of things… I never could have imagined. I have… I have a lot of questions.” 

“Save those for later. Too many curious eyes and ears. And stop walking behind me, walk next to me or else you’re gonna keep bumping into the sled.” 

Junmyeon quickens his pace to walk by Chanyeol’s side, stumbling on his boots. They look new- he probably got them just for this purpose alone. Smart thinking. 

“So we’re just going to… keep on walking?” Junmyeon asks after a moment of silence. Chanyeol already has a feeling that having Junmyeon around means he’s going to have to answer a lot of questions. He should have charged more for his teaching services, he muses dryly to himself. 

“Yeah. I have spots where I like to camp out so we’re going to keep walking until we get to one of those and spend the night. It’s going to be a lot of camping in the forest or in the mountains, we don’t want people seeing too much of us.”

“Makes sense.” 

Small talk dies down after that. It takes them another hour or so of brisk walking to make it out of the sprawling ghetto, the buildings continuously growing smaller and less densely built, garbage piles rising higher and the ditches along the road getting nastier. If things are poorly taken care of close to the wall and in the old parts of the town built around Lost Seoul, then here there’s no law or order to be found. People are simply fending for themselves as best as they know how. Chanyeol has his weapons at the ready; desperation makes people try stupid things, and he’s not in the mood for any funny business. Even Junmyeon seems aware of the change in atmosphere, huddling even closer to Chanyeol as they walk, doing his best to keep up with his pace. 

But eventually, the houses get fewer and fewer, until it’s safe to say that they’ve made it out of the city. They make it to a wide road, winding down south, clearly too wide to have been made for just people to walk on but almost completely void of vehicles. Only a couple of makeshift, rusty vehicles go by, and everyone else on the road is there on foot, with carts or hover sleds or other means of transportation for their gear. Chanyeol steers them to the sideline, joining the sparse line of people heading to the same direction as them. 

Junmyeon is looking around more curiously now, probably feeling more encouraged now that they’ve made it this far and there are less people around. Chanyeol can practically hear the questions already forming in his head.

“This is… a strange road,” Junmyeon says carefully. “Where are all the cars? All the roads in Seoul, they have plenty of cars everywhere. Why are there none here? Why is everyone walking?” 

It’s strange to hear someone refer to Lost Seoul by its old name, but Chanyeol has heard that people born and raised within the walls speak of it that way. For what reason, he doesn’t know- but perhaps the government doesn’t want its most valuable citizens thinking that anything’s ever been lost at all. 

But to citizens like Chanyeol, who has witnessed first-hand the sacrifices everyone outside the walls has to make to keep the city in its glory, and how the city has been so separated from the rest of the country, it has been lost. Lost to the army, lost to the government- it exists in a bubble of its own, not available to anyone who hasn’t been born with the privilege of living inside those walls. People like Chanyeol can only visit, but not stay. 

“We can’t afford cars,” he replies, trying not to sound bitter. He really enjoyed driving, when he was still in the army- it was so much fun, made him feel so powerful. As a civilian, though, he can never dream of it again. “Need all sorts of permits to have a car and to drive it around, and they’re expensive as all hell. You know, because of the emissions and all that. The government doesn’t want us spewing even more toxic things into the atmosphere.” 

“Oh.” Junmyeon seems speechless for a moment. “Oh. I had no idea- I didn’t know. So those vehicles then, are they-”

“They’re all illegal,” Chanyeol finishes the sentence for him. “People who have the skill have built their own means of getting around. They’re handy but they stand out, and I don’t want to risk getting caught. Not with you, anyway.” 

“There are a lot of things you don’t want to do, or don’t want to happen,” Junmyeon points out, his sharp observation startling Chanyeol slightly. “Don’t want to be seen, don’t want people talking about you, don’t want people to think this or that, don’t want to fight… I’ve never heard anyone speak so much about things they don’t want, usually people focus on the things that they do actually want.” 

“I’m a simple man with simple needs,” Chanyeol replies dryly. He feels oddly uncomfortable knowing that Junmyeon has already paid that much attention to the things he’s said- he’s going to have to be more careful about what he talks about, because clearly the boy is taking notes. “Which mostly consist of wanting to stay alive for as long as I can. I think it makes a load of sense that I don’t want anything to happen that could make staying alive harder for me.” 

“I guess that’s one way to put it.” Junmyeon sounds skeptical. A part of Chanyeol wants to challenge him- what the fuck is he getting on his case for? What’s it to Junmyeon what he wants or doesn’t want? If the little guppy is going to start getting on his nerves already, he might not be able to put up with him all the way until Busan. 

But Junmyeon seems done with the topic. “So the roads are left from back when everyone still could drive around?” he asks, stomping his feet as if to test the durability of the road beneath their feet. “They just left them everywhere?” 

“I guess the army would still use these, if they ever had a need to go someplace,” Chanyeol replies with a shrug. “And I figure digging these up would be more trouble than it’s worth. Better for us- walking through the mountains gets real old real quick.” 

“Real old real quick,” Junmyeon repeats after him like there’s something funny about that. “Well, I can imagine. Are there any dangerous animals out there? Boars and stuff?” 

Chanyeol chortles, amused by the silliness of the question. “Boars and stuff,” he mimics how Junmyeon repeated his words a moment ago. “There’s nothing bigger up there than hares at most. How outdated were your biology books, 300 years? Everything’s gone extinct a long ago.” 

Junmyeon sounds a bit pissed now. “I’ve never gone to school,” he bites back. “I wasn’t raised to make intelligent conversation with my master, you know. I’ve only ever learned things through videos, usually on mute, and it wasn’t always super clear if the things they were showing were from the past or not.” 

“Mute? Why not put the sound on?” Chanyeol has a bit of trouble sympathizing with Junmyeon, because he always hated school and that was one of the many reasons why he got into the army too. To avoid having to spend any more time in school. He just wasn’t cut out for it.

“Because I wasn’t allowed that sort of power.” Junmyeon crosses his arms over his chest. “The screens were always on but there was hardly ever sound on, because he’d be on the phone or something. I don’t know, I guess he just liked having something to look at, even if he wasn’t interested. But I was.” His shoulders have hunched even lower, his head hanging low. It probably feels quite surreal that all of that stopped being his reality just hours ago- he’s probably speaking of his master like this for the first time in his life.

“I see.” Chanyeol doesn’t know what else to say. It’s not like he’s trying to purposefully upset Junmyeon- but he’s never dealt with slaves before, and so he just doesn’t know how to be sensitive about it. Being delicate with anyone or anything has never been his forte. Brute force is, but although he’s already seen the fire hidden inside Junmyeon, the fire that probably propelled him to escape at all, he also seems so fragile. So scared. 

Small talk ends there, and they just walk forward silently. The road grows quieter the further away from the city they get, as people take the exits to the surrounding cities and towns that sprawl all around the southern side of Lost Seoul. Some of them are complete ruins, entirely abandoned when people rushed to move as close to Lost Seoul as they could or even over the old border to Pyeongyang in the hopes of securing a better life, and most of them have been left to fend for themselves because they’re not important enough for the government to care. But Chanyeol keeps them on the main road for now, marching forward at a steady pace. Most of his typical camp spots are a full day’s walk away from town, and they got started on this journey a bit late, so they have to catch up. 

He can tell that even this is already getting to Junmyeon, though. He’s really struggling to keep up with Chanyeol’s pace after a while, having to sprint to catch up when he falls behind. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps walking, but he simply cannot hide his struggling. 

Chanyeol tries his best not to let his impatience get to him. He knew that this would happen, he told himself so, but he’s not used to being held back by anyone. If he ever travels with someone, it’s always with people equally as used to hiking as he is. But it’s also his job to make sure that Junmyeon gets to Busan perimeter in one piece, and pushing him to the point of breaking already on the first day isn’t going to benefit anybody.

With their pace, and with all the breaks that Chanyeol takes just to give Junmyeon a chance to catch his breath, the sun has long since set by the time they make it to his first camp site. It’s getting dark, but at least it means that less people will be able to see what they’re about to do. At a certain road sign, Chanyeol jumps off the road and onto the gravel that separates it from the grass that climbs up the bare hill, and starts walking towards the forest. He can hear Junmyeon stumble on the gravel as he hurries to follow him on this sudden detour. 

“Are we headed to camp yet?” he asks, sounding out of breath, but also cautiously hopeful. It makes Chanyeol laugh a little, because it’s kind of cute.

“You probably can’t wait to be there, huh,” he says to him over his shoulder. “Yes, we’re headed to camp. It’s not too far from here, so just follow me.” 

There is no proper path leading up to it, and Chanyeol prefers it that way. It keeps it more discreet. And even the camp itself, it isn’t much; it’s a low dip in the ground on the hillside, just low enough to offer a bit of cover from the wind, a fire pit he’s made, and small tarp shelter. It’s just one slanted wall he’s made with water proof fabric and covered with branches to make it stand out less, and nothing else. 

“It’s not much,” he says as he unhooks the sled from his belt, turns it off so it rests on the ground, and pulls out a lamp to cast some light in the darkness. It’s dim, but as he holds its high up, the light is enough to see the entire camp area. “But I only ever spend one night at a time here. So it doesn’t need to be any more than this.” 

“It’s… it’s nothing I’ve ever seen,” Junmyeon admits, walking towards the tarp shelter and sitting down under its cover, before he takes off his backpack and lets it roll on the ground. He looks exhausted. “But at this point… I could sleep anywhere.”

“Figured as much,” Chanyeol says with a small grin. He’d ask Junmyeon to do his part in setting up camp, but he doesn’t know how and probably wouldn’t be of much help even if he did. It’ll be faster if he does it, with his own routine. 

He makes a camp fire in a flash. Instead of having to actually look for firewood, he uses special sticks that look like a single piece of chopped firewood but can in fact burn for hours on their own. He lights one up and throws it in the pit, leaving it to do its thing. Since it’s not raining, he doesn’t do anything to the tarp shelter to strengthen it and instead just throws down the two sleeping bags he brought. Cooking isn’t a necessity because he brought a lot of energy bars with him, but they spent all day eating those already, so he figures that he might as well make them something else for a change. 

So he sets up a small pot over the fire, fills it with water and pours in a packet of instant stew, stirs it once and leaves it be. With the food now on the way, he starts setting up the protective devices; he has little censors that he sets up around the camp in a circle and turns them on, so that they’ll sound a loud alarm if anyone steps inside the circle. He can feel Junmyeon staring at him, but he doesn’t say anything, just watches him work in silence.

“I would set up the distortion field to make us harder to see, but I don’t think we’re being followed,” Chanyeol says just to break the ice a little bit. “During the whole day of walking, I didn’t see anyone who seemed suspicious, and I don’t think your master would go for discretion anyway. I think that if he has sent anyone after us, they’re going for brute force and speed, not subtlety.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Junmyeon says quietly. He begins to undo the laces of his boots and takes them off, rolls down his socks. His feet are blistered at the toes and the heels, probably painfully so. Chanyeol rummages through the gear in his sled and takes out the first aid kit, hands it over to him. But Junmyeon just blinks at it like he has no idea what it is.

“For your feet,” Chanyeol says, gesturing towards the box. He checks on the stew, stirs it again as it’s starting to slowly bubble. “To take care of the blisters.” 

Junmyeon opens the kit, but continues to stare at it wide eyed and confused. “I don’t know… how to take care of blisters,” he admits quietly, his voice a bit shaky. “I have no idea… I don’t know…” 

Getting mad at the poor thing isn’t going to solve anything, but Chanyeol’s patience has been worn thin. He steps up to Junmyeon again, kneels down on the ground and pulls Junmyeon’s leg on top of his thigh roughly as he reaches for the tube of antibacterial salve. Junmyeon flinches as Chanyeol begins to dab it on, and flinches again as Chanyeol grabs his ankle to keep him still with his right hand, his long biomechanical fingers closing around his slender leg in a tight grip. Chanyeol pays that no mind- he’s used to people’s adverse reactions to his biomechanical enhancements. He dabs the salve on everywhere in a thin layer, before he grabs the next item from the kit. It’s skin patches, bandages that will become part of the skin, so that Junmyeon’s injuries will look and feel completely healed by the morning. Junmyeon is going to be sore anyway, and the last thing they need is for his blisters to hold them back. The bandages are precious and hard to find, but Chanyeol tries not to think of it as a waste right now. He came prepared, he knew that this wasn’t going to be like his solo trips.

He has to take care of his paying customer. 

When he’s done applying the patches and wraps them up in a layer of gauze, Junmyeon jerks his leg back and hurries to grab the tube of salve in his own hand. “I think I get it now,” he says, his voice strung, curling away from Chanyeol. “I’ll- I’ll do the other one. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Chanyeol replies gruffly as he stands back up. “The food’s ready, so hurry up.”

He doesn’t bother with plates, and just lifts the pot on the ground between them and sticks another spoon into it so they can both eat. He doesn’t wait for Junmyeon before digging in.

“Do you… do you always just eat foods like this?” Junmyeon asks when he picks up his spoon as well after bandaging his other foot. When Chanyeol just raises his eyebrows at him, Junmyeon pokes at the stew with his spoon meaningfully. “Like, food that isn’t food? Packaged and processed like this.” 

Chanyeol feels completely baffled by this. “What food… isn’t packaged and processed?” he asks, earning himself an even more confused look from Junmyeon in return. “I mean there probably are grandmas out there who grow real vegetables or something, but none of us ordinary folk can get our hands on stuff like that.”

“You mean… you never eat anything fresh? At all?” Junmyeon sounds absolutely horrified, and the way he now looks at the food makes it seem like he considers it poisoned. “You never eat anything but this? You don’t… you don’t cook food? Proper food with actual ingredients?” 

“Of course we don’t,” Chanyeol intelligently says. He’s feeling so stupid right now, and it’s irritating him. “You mean to tell me that you rich folk actually cook food? Like in the Old World and stuff?”

Junmyeon blinks once, twice, brings his knees to his chest. “Well, yeah,” he replies. “My master’s house- the chef would cook him real stuff. Real, fresh food. I got only the scraps of everything but, I’ve never eaten something like this before… I didn’t know that this is how people eat.” He spoons more of the stew in his mouth, clearly very hungry. “The taste is… something to get used to.” 

“You’re gonna have to get used to a lot of things, princess,” Chanyeol mocks him. His mood is rotten now, his anger really flaring up. It’s so unfair, the divide between the rich and the poor- he’s eaten nothing but processed food out of a package his entire life, while there are people who can still eat real things, real fruits. Chanyeol has eaten canned fruit maybe once or twice in his life, and that’s it.

His harsh tone makes Junmyeon curl up even smaller and eat faster, like he’s afraid Chanyeol will take his food away from him in his anger. Chanyeol says nothing though, and just gets up to prepare to lay down, taking off his boots and outer layers of clothing. They took off their gas masks a few hours before arriving here, as the constant cover of smoke wore off the further away from the city that they got, and that will make sleeping much more pleasant than having to wear the contraption to bed. 

“I’ll sleep on the outer edge,” he tells Junmyeon as he lays out the sleeping bags properly. “You can’t defend us from anything, so I’ll sleep here where I can get up faster. Now hurry up and eat, so I can put out the fire.”

The way Junmyeon hurriedly finishes the food is almost comical, as he tries to eat it as quickly as possible with Chanyeol hovering right above him. He doesn’t look up at Chanyeol anymore, doesn’t say a word, just abandons the pot there and rolls over to the sleeping bag Chanyeol laid out for him in the shelter. Chanyeol can hear him rustle and wiggle around as he gets inside the bag, while he snuffs out the fire, leaving them in darkness. No words are exchanged as he lies down in his own sleeping bag, and turns his back to Junmyeon. 

He doesn’t stay awake long enough to hear Junmyeon sniffle and sob into the crook of his elbow in the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chanyeol wakes Junmyeon up early the next day, just before sunrise. He has another pot of stew boiling away, and he works quietly on dismantling the traps while Junmyeon eats his share. The atmosphere is tense; Junmyeon looks awfully tired and his movements are slow as though his body aches every time he moves, which it probably does. Yet Chanyeol doesn’t offer him anything, doesn’t say anything of it. His mood is almost just as sour as it was when he went to sleep, and he’s not in a mood to coddle his client right now. He takes down the camp on his own and then eats whatever Junmyeon left in the pot, before rinsing it out quickly and then ushering Junmyeon up on his feet. 

“We have to get going, c’mon.” 

When they make it to the road, there’s no one there, just the mist of the early morning lingering. It’s eerily silent, not even birds are singing, and in the twilight, it all seems like it isn’t quite real. But Chanyeol doesn’t have it in him to stop and admire the scenery, instead marching right ahead with the sled once more attached to his belt. Junmyeon is struggling to keep up even more than he was yesterday, but he keeps his silence, his hood up and chin tilted down. The sound of their boots echoes, the bare mountain slopes making it sound like they’re giants marching down the road and not just regular humans. 

The silence lasts until the sun comes up at last, as more people appear on the road; some people with just backpacks on them, some people towing or pushing carts along, some with sleds similar to Chanyeol’s. Everyone keeps their head down and just hurries forward, clearly wanting no trouble, no meddling. It’s the rule of the road; don’t see, don’t hear, don’t speak. They’re all better off that way. 

But Junmyeon seems to tire of the silence eventually. “I’ve never witnessed the sunrise before,” he muses, although at least he has the decency to keep his voice down. “It’s… so different, than what it seems in the movies, or videos of the Old World even. It’s… less violent.” 

“What does that mean,” Chanyeol grunts before he can stop himself. Dear god, he did not mean to invite more conversation by asking a question. But Junmyeon latches onto it like he’s starving. 

“It’s always so red and orange, so bright that it looks wrong, you know?” he explains, hands gesturing in sweeping motions like painting a horizon. “In the Old World, it looked like it was quite beautiful… But nowadays, it’s so… toxic. It looks like the whole sky is on fire, if there are no clouds to dull the colors. And if there are clouds, they just look poisoned too. Poisoned with the reds and purples and yellows.” 

“The atmosphere is so full of toxins and things that don’t belong there, that’s why,” Chanyeol replies. “So what does it look like now?”

“It’s… just peaceful.” Junmyeon makes a sweeping motion again, gesturing at the hillsides. “The world is slowly getting brighter, warmer, the night is fading away peacefully. Like it knows it’s time to go, and it’s not angry or upset. It goes willingly, and the light just grows.”

“What a poet you are,” Chanyeol says, and again catches his own harsh tone too late. Junmyeon has already withdrawn, pulled back into his shell, his arms back down against his body and fists clenched. It’s kind of upsetting, to know he’s made Junmyeon feel that way, but he doesn’t know how to apologize or to make up for it, and so they simply carry on in silence.

They just walk the entire day. Chanyeol allows them breaks when Junmyeon starts stumbling on his boots, to give him water and food, but he doesn’t let them linger. Forward, forward, forward, the road calls to him, his own paranoia pushes him. Away from Lost Seoul, away from everything. But Junmyeon looks tired, even if he doesn’t complain, and Chanyeol knows he’s already pushing his limits.

It’s only the second day on a journey that could take weeks to complete, if odds are not in their favor. The direct distance from Seoul to Busan perimeter is only around 300 kilometers, but they will have to cross the chain of mountains dividing the peninsula down the middle. While there are tunnels built through them, they tend to be dangerous- they’re easy for bandits to hold and to collect unreasonable fees for anyone who wishes to go through them, and overall just dangerous to enter. So they will have to make detours, and who knows what else could happen on the way. Moving along the road, things are still simple, but once they have to enter the mountain terrain, things will get tricky and progress will be slow. Chanyeol’s only hope is that Junmyeon will get stronger quickly.

There’s no conversation, just the steady rhythm of walking. Left foot, right foot, left foot. Over and over again. Somehow Chanyeol finds peace in it; being on the road, on the way somewhere, not worrying about anything else but moving forward. Watching the scenery change around them, even if it’s all the same- low mountains and hills, small patches of forest that has survived, villages and people trying to farm land wherever they can. Old grave sites, from when burying people in the ground in the wild was still allowed. People passing them by on the road, all of them blending together, all too similar to one another.

“Will we… will we spend the night in the forest again?” Junmyeon asks as the sun begins to go down. He’s dragging his feet and keeps falling behind more and more often. In his question, Chanyeol hears a silent plea to stop walking for the day, and rest. 

“Yes, we will,” he answers, adjusting his backpack. “I don’t intend to enter a town or a village until we’re running out of supplies.” They have food to last them a long time, but water will become a problem in just a day or two, but at least it’s the easiest supply to replenish. “We’re not going to make it to one of my camps, but I know a place we can hopefully stay at quite comfortably.” 

Junmyeon nods, biting his lip. He clearly wants to say something more, but he needs to gather his courage first. Chanyeol doesn’t usher him, just lets the silence stretch on for as long as it will. 

“I have… I have something I need to show you.” Junmyeon ducks his head lower to avoid having to face Chanyeol. “Something we… probably need to take care of. We probably need daylight for that, so it’d be nice if we stopped before it gets pitch black again.” 

That instantly has Chanyeol concerned. “It doesn’t sound like a surprise I’ll be happy to see,” he says dryly. “But alright. Let’s take a look at it then. We shouldn’t be too far off, now.” 

Again, he directs them off the road and into the wilderness surrounding it, his hover sled bobbing along as he steps into the uneven terrain, the low bushes and tall grass tangling at his feet. This time though, instead of camping out in the open, he takes them to a small, abandoned warehouse; it was probably used by farmers who came this far from their actual farms, but it seems like it doesn’t get used anymore and only ever sees people when travelers use it for shelter. Which is his only worry- it could be occupied.

“Wait right here,” he orders Junmyeon when the warehouse comes into view. It’s made of simple metal panels bolted together, the roof also made of the same material. It was probably once painted blue, but now all color has faded off. The surroundings are completely empty; the fields have been abandoned and slowly growing small trees and pushes, probably too much to till without the machinery that farmers were still allowed in the Old World, the valley opening up to the right of them devoid of any houses save for a small village on the opposite side of it, and even there, all of the houses seem to have no occupants since the lights aren’t on. But Chanyeol isn’t yet convinced that they’re alone.

He clips off the sled from his belt, and instead clips it onto Junmyeon. “If I tell you to run, you run back to the road as fast as you can, got it?” he warns him once, before he pushes the sleeve up on his right arm, revealing the mechanisms at the wrist of his biomechanical arm. It has several hidden functions, thanks to being military grade, and Chanyeol slides out a long blade in the place of his three fingers, effectively turning his hand into a deadly weapon. Junmyeon’s eyes are wide as saucers as he stares at it, but he doesn’t say anything, instead crouching down in the bushes to hide from view. 

Chanyeol creeps forward on his own, careful not to make any sound while listening for noise coming from the warehouse. Its walls are so thin, he should be able to hear if anyone was talking inside- but nothing. But Chanyeol knows better than to let that fool him. He walks closer, ready to bounce at any moment, and slowly inches his way to the open doorway of the warehouse. The sun is shining in at a fortunate angle, casting light inside the windowless building, and as Chanyeol carefully pokes his head out enough to take a quick look, he’s quite convinced that it is as empty as it seems to be. Now less on edge, he steps inside and takes a quick look around- there are remnants of someone’s camp, it appears, but it looks like the person hasn’t been back in a while. Surely they won’t mind if they borrow the place for the night. 

“Come in,” he yells out, “it’s safe.” 

Junmyeon appears soon after, the sled with him, peering in curiously as he steps inside. “That’s not your camp?” he asks, pointing at the makeshift bed and the primitive stove contraption on the floor.

“No,” Chanyeol replies, “but sharing is caring. I don’t think they’ve been here in a while, and if they decide to come back to night, well… I’m not too worried. Most people don’t want trouble, if they’re the kind of people who sleep in warehouses like this.” 

But despite his reassuring words, he immediately sets up the alarm system to make sure he will be alerted immediately if anything comes near the building. He’s not taking risks, especially this close to Lost Seoul. 

When he walks back inside, Junmyeon is seated on the low makeshift bed, knees to his chest, worrying his lower lip in between his teeth. He seems worked up about something- and that reminds Chanyeol about what he said earlier. 

“You had something you wanted to show me?” He has no idea what that could be- Junmyeon’s bag doesn’t seem to hold very much, so he has no guesses as to what this is about. But seeing Junmyeon so worried makes him seriously think he won’t be thrilled to see it. 

Junmyeon doesn’t respond verbally at first. Instead, he sets his feet back down on the ground and begins to take off his layers; his jacket, the shirts beneath. Chanyeol watches him with his brows furrowed, quite confused. Junmyeon pulls even his tank top off, revealing his pale, wiry torso; his lack of strength really shows in his build, his skinny body making it obvious that he’s lived a life of very little physical activity. He seems embarrassed about his state of undress, arms going over his chest and head tilted down, but then he turns his back to Chanyeol wordlessly. 

Chanyeol’s gaze is immediately drawn to the device, its dark color a stark contrast to the pale skin surrounding it. It’s a small, round object attached to Junmyeon’s left shoulder, a small flat disk flush to his skin. There’s a red light blinking on it, and a couple of silver buttons, overall a very simple piece of tech- but Chanyeol instantly knows that it’s no good. 

“You have a fucking tracking device mounted on you and you didn’t tell me?” he yells, stepping forward and grabbing Junmyeon by the shoulder harshly to hold him still as he leans in to look at it, his biomechanical fingers digging into Junmyeon’s right shoulder and making him cry out in surprise- or fear. “We’ve been followed all this time and you didn’t fucking tell me until now? Do you want us to get killed, is that what it is?” He’s so angry he could smack Junmyeon across his pretty face. He just cannot believe this- he’s been stressing to Junmyeon how important it is for them to escape without being followed, and now he reveals this. “You bloody idiot!” 

“It’s not for tracking,” Junmyeon cries out, attempting to tear himself free from Chanyeol’s grasp but finds himself unable to. His shoulders are trembling, his whole body curling in on itself as much as he can. “It isn’t! I promise! It’s just… It’s just to mark me as property. And to punish me.” 

“Then what is that red signal for?” Chanyeol still can’t lower his voice, shaking Junmyeon to get the answers out of him quicker. “What is it blinking for, if not to send our exact location to your master right now?” 

“It’s just the battery light,” Junmyeon whimpers. “Nothing more, trust me, I know exactly what the device is. If it had tracking abilities to it, do you think I would have been able to come to Yixing’s to meet you?” 

That’s a fair point. Chanyeol lets go of him, shoving him down as he stands up straight again. He’s still fuming, unable to calm down just yet. “So why are you showing it to me then?” he asks. “What’s it to me? If you haven’t noticed, you’re not the only one here with artificial parts.” He flexes his fingers just to make the joints squeak and whirr, to really drive home that they’re indeed not flesh and bones. 

“I know.” Junmyeon can’t even look at him. “But I need you to get it out. You have to cut it out.” 

“You’ve gone mad.” Chanyeol can’t believe his own ears. “In case you hadn’t realized, I’m a smuggler, not a doctor. I may have a biomechanical arm but that doesn’t make me an expert in implants and shit!” 

Junmyeon reaches up to touch the device, fingertips tracing over where the red light is blinking. “When the battery runs out… it’s going to start hurting me,” he whispers. “It’ll start shocking me, to force me to get it charged. It won’t just die down peacefully. It’ll do everything it can to make sure I have to recharge it, so that I couldn’t hide the fact that the battery is running low. The pain is so excruciating I won’t be able to walk, or do anything, except scream… We have to get it out.” 

Chanyeol’s head is spinning with all this information. He saw things like this in the army- usually given to those who’d infiltrate enemy territories. Should they be captured during their mission, they could be murdered remotely by administrating the poison in the device, to make sure that the enemy side couldn’t get any valuable information out of them. But he had no idea that these devices were also given to slaves like Junmyeon.

“It shocks you?” he asks, stepping closer to inspect it again. Junmyeon twitches and shudders, but doesn’t move, his breaths coming unevenly. “To punish you?”

“Yes.” Junmyeon’s voice is suddenly tired, thin. “My master has a remote… It’s easier than beating me. Doesn’t leave unsightly bruises, or scars.” 

Chanyeol can only nod in response. There’s not much to be said. But it’s now that he realizes that they’ve both gone through a lot of pain in their lives- unfair, unreasonable suffering that no one should have to face. And in a way, Junmyeon’s pain feels even more unjust. He was never given a chance to fight back, could never defend himself. 

The reason why he was so desperate to get out has become that much more obvious now. 

“So it’ll start shocking you when the battery gets too low?” Looking at the device, he can’t tell how it could be removed without surgery. It’s attached to the skin and the muscle below seamlessly, and even running his fingers over it, he can’t feel any buttons or ridges that would indicate that you could screw or pop it out. It’s probably been planted like this to make sure that the slave couldn’t get it out without resorting to extreme methods. It makes sense, but it also makes him wonder if it’ll be possible to do anything about it. 

But Junmyeon’s words confirm to him that something has to be done. “Yeah. I’ve never lasted until the end, so I don’t know how long it’ll go on,” Junmyeon says with a shake of his head. “The longest I’ve gone was over 24 hours… my master had left me at a hotel when he was out, and didn’t come back… And then it took time to get the right kind of charger, too. I’ll never forget that pain… for as long as I live.”

They’re not in a position to be stuck here for days to wait for the battery to run out, and Chanyeol doesn’t think he has it in him to just sit and watch it happen. He may have been hard on Junmyeon these past two days, but he still has a heart- even if the army did its best to get rid of it. 

“I’m not a medic,” he says. “I know how to take care of injuries on myself, but I don’t know what to do about this… and operating on it is going to be extremely painful.” He has supplies for emergencies, and in the kit, he probably has the equipment to perform this DIY surgery… But he’s not thrilled about the prospect of cutting Junmyeon’s skin open without anesthesia, or the prospect of infections and other complications that could follow. 

“I know,” Junmyeon replies, hugging his knees to his chest tighter. “I know you’re not. But we just… we just have to do it. No matter how much it hurts, it’ll still be easier to bear than what would happen if the battery ran low.” 

Chanyeol isn’t completely sold on the idea, but he knows that there’s no other choice. “We could walk to the nearest city and look for a doctor…” But even as he says it, he knows that it would mean immediate danger. The device is a sure sign of who and what Junmyeon is, and ratting them out might prove to be a temptation too big to resist for the staff of any clinic. Chanyeol doesn’t know anyone around here that he could trust.

He’s always been a man of action and quick decisions. Thinking on his feet is what has kept him alive, together with his paranoia, and when presented with a problem, he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work. It seems like Junmyeon has made up his mind- he probably knew that it would come to this long before he told Chanyeol. 

He grabs the emergency kit from the sled and sets it down on the floor, together with one of the electric lanterns to light up the darkening warehouse, the sun going down quickly on them now. “I don’t have a scalpel,” he murmurs, thinking out loud. “But if I disinfect the blade on my hand… That should do it. It’ll be steadier that way anyway. Bandages, disinfectant, skin patches…” 

Junmyeon watches him prepare for the impromptu operation in silence. He seems pale and he’s bitten his lip raw, but there’s also definite determination to his eyes. The same determination Chanyeol saw when he convinced him to take this gig in Yixing’s office, or when Junmyeon climbed into the trash cart to be smuggled out of the city and into the unknown. As ignorant of the real life as the slave is, he’s willing to do anything it takes to gain his freedom.

“Wish you had told me beforehand, I would have gotten some drugs to take the edge off,” Chanyeol says as he flips out a new blade from inside his biomechanical arm. It’s smaller than what he was holding up as a weapon earlier, the metal gleaming in the light as he pours the disinfectant over it. “But maybe the meds will be enough. Grab that green whistle, inhale from it. It has gas and powder in it that will hit you almost instantly. It’s the most we can do. You can pop the pills afterwards, once we’re sure you’re not gonna puke or anything.” 

Junmyeon’s hands are shaking when he reaches for the whistle, but he still does as he’s told, taking the cap off to start breathing in the medicine. He lays down on his stomach on the makeshift bed, his left arm down by his side and the right one holding the whistle to his mouth. Chanyeol considers briefly if he should tie him down- but he thinks better of it. It would probably trigger something quite nasty, if he were to do that. 

“I’ll try to make it quick,” he promises, even if it’s an empty one. He shuffles over to the bed, lays down the bandages where he can reach them, and straddles Junmyeon’s lower back. The motion makes Junmyeon stiffen, a shudder going through him, before he’s able to start breathing evenly again. The touch and the position probably feel a different type of horrible than the pain that he’s about to go through. 

“Just don’t stop until it’s out,” Junmyeon mumbles around the tip of the whistle. “Just don’t stop. The quicker you do it… the better.” 

“I understand.” Chanyeol isn’t surprised to realize that he only feels an odd sense of calm and responsibility. He was trained to do worse things in the military, and he’s had to take care of a lot of nasty injuries on his own body as well. He’s not upset- although he can only hope that it’ll stay that way, once the first incision has been made.

Looking at the device closer and inspecting it further, he has only a poor guess as to how thick it is and how deep into Junmyeon’s shoulder it has been mounted. But considering his arm movements aren’t limited in any way, it can’t disrupt the muscle too much, and it cannot have been placed underneath it either. That gives him hope that this won’t be so difficult, although he tries not to be too optimistic yet. 

He purposefully squeezes Junmyeon’s sides with his thighs, trapping his left arm against his body, before he pushes the blade against Junmyeon’s skin and the side of the device, cutting through the skin and flesh as he slides it deeper and deeper until the blade slips underneath the device at last. Junmyeon is already screaming, screaming and sucking on the whistle, squirming to try and escape the pain. Chanyeol just squeezes him tighter to make sure he can’t slip away, and starts to cut around the device like that, to separate the sides of it from Junmyeon’s skin. 

It’s next to impossible to see what he’s doing, the blood gushing out everywhere, covering the incision he’s made. But he knows that the only way to do this is to keep going; he can’t stop, can’t hesitate, not with the way Junmyeon is howling in pain underneath him, his feet kicking even though he’s probably doing his best to just stay still. He’s so small though that there’s no way he could throw Chanyeol off him.

Chanyeol cuts all the way around the small disk, trying to work as quickly as he can. The blood makes everything slippery, his fingers and the blade alike, and listening to the way Junmyeon is screaming like an animal makes his ears ring, makes his heart beat faster in fear, his mind telling him to stop, to end this madness, just stop and let it be over. But no- even if he stopped now, it wouldn’t do anything, Junmyeon would still be in pain, but for nothing. 

With the disk now free, he grabs it with his human hand and tries to lift it up. But it doesn’t budge- instead, the motion only makes Junmyeon sob even louder still, trying to yank his shoulder away from him. Confused, Chanyeol slides the blade back underneath the disk- and then the tip of it hits something hard, something impenetrable. 

“Fuck,” he curses. There’s something else there, connecting the device even deeper- he hopes to gods that it’s not all the way to the bone, even if that would explain why it can hurt Junmyeon so much. But to dig it all the way out, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do, not without severely hurting Junmyeon in the process. Junmyeon is sobbing into his forearm, the whistle now forgotten, and trying to cut through the muscle seems too intense. The bleeding is already so severe, the red staining everything; the bedding, Chanyeol’s clothes, the bandages he set to the side.

He wipes his hand clean hastily and then twists the mechanism on his hand once again, to flip the small blade back inside and bring out the big one. It’s weapon grade, meant to make damage and survive direct impact with most materials, and it’s all too crude for this but it’s all that he has right now. It’ll have to suffice. 

“Stay very still,” he orders Junmyeon, although he can’t be sure if he hears him. “I’m almost done, almost done.” 

He holds the device still with his hand as he slips the blade underneath it once more. The thicker blade causes Junmyeon more pain and he’s screaming and crying again, but Chanyeol does his best to block that out. To concentrate, feeling the part that’s holding the device in place with the very tip of the blade. His biomechanical arm isn’t as sensitive to pressure as his human fingers are, not as nimble and precise, especially the blades, but he needs to get this right- he needs to aim this one right the first time, or else he’ll end up slicing Junmyeon’s flesh and hurting him even further. He angles the blade so that it’s parallel to the root of the disk, and lets the charge build up, the mechanisms in his arm whirring and buzzing as the tension builds up, ready to explode- and he then slices forward, letting all of that energy burst out at once, concentrating all of that on the blade while holding the disk steady with his hand.

For a split second, he’s sure that he wasn’t strong enough, that it wouldn’t go through, but then the rod gives in and the blade goes through, the disk popping off into his hand cleanly, leaving behind only a gaping hole, blood rushing in its place and covering everything before he can take a look at what was left behind. 

But he doesn’t even care. He’s sure that he got the main mechanism out, that whatever remains has to be harmless. It has to be. He quickly yanks on the notch on his arm to switch out the blade to his three fingers, before he hurries to press bandages over the wound, to try and suppress the bleeding, even though red blooms on the white fabric almost instantly. Yet he feels almost giddy with accomplishment- he did it, he got it out. He succeeded. 

Junmyeon complains in a low voice, like an injured animal, the sound so guttural and raw that it makes something primal in Chanyeol ache. “Shh, it’s all over,” he hushes him, easing up the pressure he was putting on Junmyeon’s sides. “I’m done, it’s over, it’s over now. I’ll just bandage you up, make the bleeding stop. It’s done, you took that so well. You did so well.” 

It doesn’t seem like Junmyeon hears him. Chanyeol does his best to just focus on the task at hand, still adding pressure on the wound left behind while reaching for more supplies. He skips the disinfectant and instead reaches for a small packet that he also took out of the med kit, and rips it open with his teeth. Not hygienic, but he’s not working with much here. He quickly pulls back the mess of bandages from the wound and dusts the powder from inside the packet on top, the powder instantly reacting with the blood and the wound and forming a thin layer on top, bonding with the open veins and injured tissue to form clots faster. It won’t be enough to stop the bleeding entirely, not with a wound this big, but it gives Chanyeol enough time to grab the skin plasters next and start placing them on the wound neatly, applying the patches around the edges in a circular shape first and then covering the center. He can feel the hard knob of the root of the device when he presses down on it, but he can’t inspect it any further- making sure the wound closes and stops bleeding is far more important. 

The skin patches are going to transform into healed skin but not in an instant, and until then the wound is still vulnerable to start bleeding again. Chanyeol tosses away the dirtied bandages and grabs new ones, before getting off of Junmyeon’s back. “Sit up,” he orders, hands already reaching for him to help him. “I need to tie the bandages around your body.” 

Junmyeon moans low, once again one of those pained sounds that doesn’t even sound human anymore. He’s wobbly as he sits up, his eyes unfocused and hands shaking where he’s leaning on his own thighs as not to keel over. Chanyeol hands him the whistle again to inhale more of the pain relief, but he shakes his head and refuses it. “You’d feel better if you took it,” Chanyeol urges, and leaves the whistle in his lap before grabbing a roll of bandage to start wrapping it on Junmyeon’s shoulder and around his chest to make sure that it’ll stay in place, at least until the morning. “The wound is going to be painful for a long time, now. Even with the patches, it’s going to take time.” 

Junmyeon mumbles something, and his forehead falls on Chanyeol’s shoulder. It startles Chanyeol a little bit, but he first finishes his task at hand before he gently pulls back, hands grabbing Junmyeon’s skinny arms to make sure he stays upright. But Junmyeon doesn’t meet his eyes and he’s starting to tremble, deep shivers going through him, his breaths still coming uneven like he’s fighting for each one, like there’s something heavy on his chest. 

“Fuck, you’re not going into shock, are you?” Chanyeol remembers something about that, from his army training- about how dangerous it is, how it can pose an even bigger danger than what caused it. “Fuck, shit. Junmyeon- it’s alright, it’s alright. It’s over now.” 

Junmyeon’s head nods forward like he’s physically too weak to hold himself up, and Chanyeol lowers him down on the bed, careful to avoid the bloodied patch at the other end of it. Hurrying back up on his feet, he grabs the med kit again to take out the small spray bottle of liquid pain medication tucked inside, and then steps back up to Junmyeon. “Here, this will help,” he mumbles, grabbing Junmyeon’s jaw to pry his mouth open, his dirtied thumb pressing against Junmyeon’s lower lip. “It’ll taste bad but, fuck, just take it.” 

He sprays the substance in Junmyeon’s mouth, two pumps, and it makes Junmyeon cough and wheeze. But Chanyeol has to spring back into action, quickly making a fire in the pit and then grabbing a spare shirt from the sled, to wrap it around Junmyeon. He opens the zipper on one of the sleeping bags entirely, so he can also wrap that around him like a blanket, but it seems to do nothing to quell the way Junmyeon is shaking now, his eyes closed and face paler than Chanyeol has ever seen before.

“Shit,” he cusses again, under his breath, before he scoops up the boy into his arms, holding him against his chest and tucking his head under his chin. He has never had to deal with anything like this before, and he feels so at loss- how is he going to make Junmyeon feel better? The pain was too much, this was such a stupid idea, but so necessary- but if Junmyeon doesn’t survive this then fuck, Chanyeol doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Bury the body and pretend this never happened? Something about that doesn’t sit right with him, at all. 

Junmyeon whimpers, incoherent words tumbling from his lips, but he angles his face to better bury it against Chanyeol’s shoulder, his fingers weakly curling up in the fabric of the sleeping bag. “That’s right,” Chanyeol hums, rocking them slightly on pure instinct. “It’s all over now, and the pain is going to go away soon. You’ll be alright. I promise.” 

He doesn’t know how long they sit like that, in front of the fire. The world around them grows dark, only the glow of the flames and the lamp that he left on creating them a small bubble of light. Junmyeon slowly stops shivering but he’s still nonresponsive, nonverbal. He’s breathing fast and there’s a certain tightness to his body that Chanyeol can feel even through bundle of fabric, but he seems to be doing alright. Or so Chanyeol hopes- he really, really should have learned more about medicine, shouldn’t he? He’s only taken care of himself for so long, gotten used to the usual ailments he has to take care of while on the road and whatever minor things he has to fix in his arm. He has no idea how to care for others, others who are not trained soldiers and tough as nails. 

Well, the last part might be true about Junmyeon as well. After what feels like hours, Junmyeon finally stirs a little bit, letting out a soft sigh as he squirms against Chanyeol’s broad chest and Chanyeol can feel him open his eyes, his lashes fluttering against his bare skin. “It… It hurts,” he mumbles, his voice coming out hoarse, husky from the screaming. “Hurts…” 

“We can fix that,” Chanyeol says. “I’ll put you down, alright?” 

Junmyeon is too weak to sit up without support, so Chanyeol sets him down on the ground so he can rest his back against the side of the bed. He simply watches in silence as Chanyeol brings him back the whistle that he abandoned earlier, and sucks on it obediently while Chanyeol prepares them stew to eat, and cleans up the mess they made. The bloodied bandages and bedding he burns in the pit, to get rid of it all, just to be safe. He doesn’t want anyone chancing upon the place and thinking that it was a murder scene of some kind, so it’s best to get rid of the blood now. 

Junmyeon’s hands are still shaky as he spoons the stew into his mouth, but Chanyeol doesn’t think he would appreciate him trying to feed him. They sit there in silence, the weight of what just happened settling in. Chanyeol reaches for the device that he cut out from Junmyeon’s skin to inspect it closer, although looking at it, he doesn’t come any closer to understanding how it works. But that doesn’t matter- for as long as whatever’s left inside Junmyeon’s shoulder isn’t enough to hurt him.

Junmyeon reaches for it wordlessly, and he stares at it with unreadable eyes. “So much pain…” he whispers, thumb caressing over where the light was blinking when it was still operational. “From such a small thing. But now, I have claimed my own body back- now, I only belong to myself. No one else. No one can hurt me. I’m free.” 

There’s no joy in his words, or in his face, but suddenly he’s tearing up, tears falling as he blinks his eyes. “I’m free,” he mumbles, wiping at his eyes weakly with the fabric of the sleeping bag. “I’m free now, Chanyeol.” 

“You are.” Chanyeol can offer him that much. “And we’ll take you to the Busan perimeter, and you’ll set up a new life there. As a free man.” 

“Thank you,” Junmyeon mumbles, as his tears continue to fall, his lower lip wobbling as he snivels his nose. “Thank you… for agreeing to do this. I’m sorry that… I’m so slow, and weak, and don’t know anything. That I’m holding you back and had this nuisance too…” He glares at the small disk on his palm, and then tosses it into the fire, watching the plastic cover of it start to slowly bubble up and melt away. 

Chanyeol doesn’t quite know what to say. This is such an important day for Junmyeon- despite how much he had to suffer. Can he even begin to understand what the slave boy must feel right now? He thinks back to the days after he ran away from the military, how he did not feel the relief he had hoped for. His arm, the arm that they took away from him in the army to make him into a literal machine, he could never have it back. He could never be the same man that he was before enlisting. He would never have his body back the way that he knew it. 

So perhaps, he can understand a part of what Junmyeon feels- can imagine how happy he would be to have his arm back, his human arm. His biomechanical arm is so useful, and it fills so many functions that a human arm never could, but it just isn’t the same. It’s not the same. 

“You’ll get stronger.” That much is for certain. “You’ll get adjusted to this life. We’ll take it day by day. We still have a lot of time, before we’ll make it to Busan. It’ll be alright.” 

Junmyeon has a hard time collecting himself, although he does his best to keep eating even though it’s obviously very hard on him. His face keeps twisting into something ugly and his cheeks are streaky with tear marks, more prominent with the dirt and dust already accumulated on his skin. He looks like he’s been to hell and back, which is not far from the truth. 

Chanyeol lets Junmyeon eat as much as he will, before giving him some more of the drugs, to make sure he’ll be able to sleep. They make use of the makeshift bed again to lie down on, since it’s a bit more comfortable than the floor of the warehouse. Junmyeon curls up next to the wall on his side, to make sure he doesn’t put pressure on his left shoulder, while Chanyeol sleeps on the side facing the room.

Before he falls asleep, he feels small fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeping bag. “Thank you… thank you for giving me my life back,” he hears Junmyeon whisper in the dark, before sleep finally claims him, aided by the drugs in his system.

And sleep comes easy to Chanyeol as well, his emotional exhaustion getting to him at last. In his dreams, he hears Junmyeon’s screams- wordless, animalistic, pained. He sees his own hands, and they’re covered in blood; the blood of those he’s hurt. Yet he cannot find Junmyeon, cannot help him, cannot end his pain, and he wakes up in cold sweat, heart hammering inside his chest painfully. 

Despite the early hour, he doesn’t go back to sleep, and instead gets up to start preparing for the day.

Junmyeon wakes up when the sun is already up, sitting up with a pained groan, unable to hide his wince as he straightens up. Chanyeol doesn’t bother with words of empathy, and instead hands him the mouth spray to take the edge off, and then pills. Junmyeon doesn’t even question it, just swallows it all. 

“We’re going to have to make a pit stop to a village a lot sooner than I planned,” Chanyeol grunts as he busies himself with putting the sleeping bags away. “I didn’t take much pain medication with me, didn’t think we’d need so much of it so soon. But if we’re gonna keep you walking, then that’s what we’ll need.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon murmurs, moving very slowly to put his outer layers back on. The movements clearly cause him pain, his left arm almost useless now. “I think… I’ll have to be high off my head to be able to do a whole day of walking.” 

Chanyeol snorts, shakes his head. “We’ll do what we can,” he responds with. “And also, I’ll make your arm a sling, so you don’t have to support the weight of it. Not like you were going to be of much use in combat anyway.”

“Combat?” Junmyeon is suddenly a lot more alert, dark eyes laser focused on Chanyeol. “Who are we going to fight today?”

“No one, don’t piss your pants,” Chanyeol says with a roll of his eyes. “I was just saying. If it ever came down to it, you wouldn’t be of much help anyway, so having your arm in a sling isn’t going to be a hindrance.”

Junmyeon looks at him warily as Chanyeol cuts out a suitable piece of fabric from the rags covering the bed and helps tie it around his neck so Junmyeon can rest his left arm instead of having to support its weight with his shoulder. 

“You really think… a lot about these kinds of things,” he says, watching Chanyeol put away everything so they can leave. “About defending us. People attacking us. Dangerous people everywhere.” 

It’s not a question- it’s a statement. Chanyeol doesn’t quite know what to make of it, and just focuses on packing everything in the sled for a moment. He hadn’t realized that it was something that would stand out to others.

“You have to think about these things,” he says nonchalantly. “Especially when you’re on the road alone, or doing dangerous things like smuggling contrabands. It’s just… in me.”   
Junmyeon nods, fiddling with the loose threads sticking out from the worn fabric of his makeshift sling. “I guess,” he replies. “I guess I also have a lot of patterns of doing things… from being a slave.”

“Yeah. Once a soldier, always a soldier. I guess.” Chanyeol finishes packing, and hands Junmyeon a nutrition bar before leading him out of the warehouse. Junmyeon seems a bit unsteady on his feet, a bit delirious maybe, and Chanyeol wraps his arm around his shoulders without thinking. The touch makes Junmyeon flinch like always, sidestepping away from him, before he stumbles back closer to him.

“I’m not hurting you, right?” Chanyeol has to make sure, since he can’t see where the wound is through Junmyeon’s clothes. Junmyeon shakes his head in response.

“No,” he says quietly, his hand pressing to Chanyeol’s side for support as they reach the forest and the terrain gets rougher once more. “It’s just… It’s hard being touched.”

It’s so hard to tell what is alright and what isn’t. What kind of topics are okay. Chanyeol has never had a real need to open up to strangers, or have people confide in him- he hasn’t truly had close friends in such a long time. But him and Junmyeon are going to be on this trip for a good long while. The events that happened yesterday, they changed them, their dynamics. He saw Junmyeon so vulnerable, and had to offer vulnerability in turn, at least physically, to hold him through it. Their relationship is not the same it was mere 24 hours ago.

“I can guess why that might be,” he replies. The forest around them is silent, the morning as bright as the one before it. It would feel like a good omen, if Chanyeol believed in such. “I’m sorry if… I push your boundaries. I’ve never dealt with people like you.” 

They’re getting closer to the road, and he pulls Junmyeon’s hood up for him. They’ll have to do something about his blond hair, it calls for too much attention. Maybe on their medicine run he can also try and find hair dye for him. 

“It’s whatever.” Junmyeon doesn’t sound like it doesn’t matter to him, but Chanyeol can understand wanting to keep emotions out of this. “I’ll have to learn anyway… that from now on, touch doesn’t always have to mean pain. Or if not pain, then at least discomfort, or disgust.”

“You’ve always been a slave?” Chanyeol ventures to ask the question he’s had ever since he met Junmyeon. “Because I was wondering… if you’ve always only known captivity, then how did you start dreaming of freedom?”

They finally get on the road, and it’s once again eerily quiet in this early hour. That’s all for the better. They hurry along, their boots hitting the road the only sound, falling into a hypnotic rhythm. 

“I have always been a slave, yes,” Junmyeon replies after a moment of silence. “Always. Or at least, as long as I can remember. I guess there’s some mercy in that, not knowing anything else. Not ever seeing how others live… I grew up in a world where all that existed were people who owned others, and people who were owned.” 

“So you were born to a slave, too?” Chanyeol has very little knowledge of the slave trade, but since Junmyeon seems willing to talk- why not fill the silence with something, if not at least take Junmyeon’s mind off his pain.

“Yes. My mother was a slave, my father… She didn’t know.” Junmyeon sighs. “I was sold to my master when I was 18. Until then, I had just done chores around the house, nothing more. But after that, I became his… his in every sense of the word. To serve. To obey. To be his living toy.”

Chanyeol’s mind supplies the rest, the terrors that are going unsaid.

“But then my master hired a maid. Hired, not bought. She was from the outside- outside the city walls. And in the long days that I spent alone, the master gone, she would tell me all sorts of things. About how life was like. That it was tough, sometimes, but how she was so happy to make money. To feed her kids, to send them to school. How they would move back to her parents, in Busan perimeter, when she got the money… And I listened to her speak, and I felt… I felt jealousy.” Junmyeon shakes his head slightly. “It was a whole world I didn’t know of, a whole way of life I’d never even dreamt of. I had always thought… that my fate was all there was for me.” 

“So you decided you wanted something else.” Chanyeol still finds it hard to believe how sheltered Junmyeon’s life has been, how little he knows- and in some ways, he had it so much better, than the average folk. The food, at least- yet that was not what he wanted. And he supposes that he understands the reasons why.

“I wanted to smile when thinking about my future, like she did,” Junmyeon mumbles, and now his voice is getting choked up. “I wanted to have something to look forward to. I didn’t know a thing about the outside world, but I knew that it would be better. Better than spending the rest of my life not even owning my own body and soul.” 

Chanyeol squeezes him closer, rubs his thumb on his shoulder gently. Junmyeon snivels and wipes at his eyes beneath his hood, or so Chanyeol at least assumes. “You own your body now,” he says after a while. “Now that we got rid of that device, too. About your soul though- I think only you can reclaim it for yourself.” 

“I guess so.” Junmyeon’s voice is heavy with emotion, but the determination Chanyeol has witnessed in him is also cutting through like steel. Junmyeon’s will has not been broken, which is not something many can say about themselves. “A journey of self-discovery of some sort, I suppose. But I’ll have time to think about it, while we’re on the road.” 

“That’s true. We have quite a bit of time left, before this trip will be over.” 

The next couple of days are long and exhausting. They just walk, steadily moving forward. Junmyeon stays as medicated as he can to not be in pain but still be able to function, Chanyeol taking care of his wound every night when they make camp in the surrounding forest or abandoned buildings. The skin patches at least enable the wound to close, although that makes it only slightly less painful for Junmyeon. But he’s a real trooper, complaining very little and marching forward, following Chanyeol’s orders as best as he can. His exhaustion is only apparent whenever they make camp for the night, as he usually passes out before Chanyeol can even cook them anything to eat.

All in all, it’s uneventful, and Chanyeol is grateful for that. 

But soon they’re running low on pain killers, as well as other supplies. Water, mostly, since Chanyeol didn’t want to carry too much of it due to its weight. There are streams and rivers out there, but all of the water has been long since polluted beyond hope, and it’s unlikely they’ll see any rain for weeks, so collecting rain water is also not an option. 

“We have to go into a town,” Chanyeol tells Junmyeon. “To replenish everything. We also need to dye your hair, so you can stop wearing your hood all the time.”

Junmyeon runs his fingers through his matted hair. The blond color is almost hidden by the dirt and dust collected in it, but it would still stand out too much for them to risk it. “I want a bath,” Junmyeon murmurs, his slight pout making Chanyeol laugh.

“Yeah, I get that. We’re getting quite dirty. If we can, we could spend the night at a motel. We’ll see.” 

Finding a town isn’t too hard. They just turn off the old highway, following down a ramp with old, rusty signs directing them closer to the city. It’s quite a different sight from Lost Seoul and the slums surrounding it; the buildings are worn down and some of them have been abandoned, but they don’t seem to radiate the same kind of poverty and desperation as does the city sprawling on the banks of old Han river. It hasn’t been clawed empty and meaningless like many places Chanyeol has seen, it has just been forgotten. Left to fare on its own, the best that it can, and it seems to have done alright. All things considered.

Of course, they stand out, obviously on the road and only stopping by, but no one seems too perturbed by this. The locals are kind, answering Chanyeol’s questions about where to go for this and that, and this is a reminder why Chanyeol despises the metropolitan Seoul so much. 

“You didn’t see much of the slums,” he tells Junmyeon in a low voice after they’ve bought jugs of water at one store, “but I can tell you, these people here are just as poor as the people over there, yet you could never tell. Life is bearable around here, or at least they don’t have to scrape by with the skin off their backs, breathing in smoke and pollution all the time.” 

“Then why do people move to Seoul?” Junmyeon asks, looking around more curiously now. “If things are better out here?” 

“Well, even in the Old Times, Seoul was where everybody went. It was the center of modernization. And even when everything started downhill, life was better up there. The government was taking care of Seoul first, and the rest of the country after that. After the unification, it was just too much to rebuild in the north and take care of things in the south. Even though they claimed otherwise, they favored Seoul over the rest of the country.” 

Chanyeol has to really keep his voice down. Speaking ill of the government is never advisable- you never know who could be listening. But the street is quiet, and no one is within earshot. So he continues. 

“People knew that, of course. Of course they did. And so everyone started to migrate there, to be better protected, to receive better rations, to have a better chance at life. But it got so bad that the government lost control- it couldn’t take care of everyone flooding into the city. That’s when they build the wall, and that’s when we lost the capital. Us ordinary people. It became Lost Seoul, because we no longer had access to it- it might as well be in China now. The government and the army, they’ve built themselves a bubble, to keep themselves safe, and everyone else out.”

“But people still move there?” The look on Junmyeon’s face reveals how disturbing he finds Chanyeol’s tale. “They don’t still believe that life is better up there, do they?”

Chanyeol chuckles at that, his tone harsh, cold, humorless. “Some people still believe it to be better,” he replies. “And for some, it really is better. Despite how awful the slums are, how hopeless life is, how poisonous the air and water are, it’s still worth the sacrifice. Safe pockets like this city, people just don’t know about them, can’t find them.” 

Junmyeon looks around them once again, more focused, more critical. “Maybe instead of smuggling, you could start relocating people. Finding them nicer places to live, so they didn’t have to stay where they are. You seem to know the country so well.” 

That makes Chanyeol chuckle. “Well, I’ve spent many years travelling across it,” he shrugs. “I’ve had time to find these places. But that’s not a bad business idea. Maybe I could get Yixing on board.”

“Do you live in Lost Seoul?” Junmyeon asks next. “Where is your home, Chanyeol?” 

It’s a simple question, but it isn’t easy to answer. Chanyeol sighs, scratches the back of his head. He’s getting itchy, they really need to bathe tonight. “I have a small home in the slums, yeah,” he replies. “A base of sorts. But I spend so much time on the road that I don’t consider myself to have a home anywhere, really. But I’ve been saving up my money, so when I get tired of all this, I can settle down with a piece of land and just live in peace.”

It’s a very personal secret to share, and it makes Junmyeon look up at him in surprise. Chanyeol regrets sharing this silly future plan of his immediately, and is only grateful to reach the pharmacy they were looking for and slip inside where they can no longer talk about topics like this, under so many watchful eyes. 

They spend the rest of the day gathering supplies, replenishing what they’ve lost, and then head to the only hostel still in operation in the city. It’s run by an old couple who welcome them so eagerly that Chanyeol doubts they’ve seen guests in a very long time. At least they don’t see anyone else, and they’re alone in the room that they’re taken to. The beds are neatly made, but the covers are dusty. No one has been here in ages.

“We need to wash up, and we need to dye your hair now,” Chanyeol tells Junmyeon, pulling out clean clothes from the hover sled. The couple were a bit hesitant to allow him to bring it into the room, but Chanyeol could not rest easy too far away from it. It’s too valuable. “We won’t get the chance to do this until we make another supply run.”

“I’m so ready to get clean again, even if it’s just for a moment.” Junmyeon’s smile is hopeful, excited- the first time he’s looked that way, and to think that it’s over something as small as a bath. But it’s progress, Chanyeol supposes. Junmyeon still has a long way to go to fully heal, and reclaim his life and happiness.

The bathroom doesn’t have working showers, or running warm water, just giant basins that heat up the water that can then be poured into small tubs or overhead with big ladles. But it’s still warm water, and as much of it as they want, which in itself is a luxury. Chanyeol shoos away the old man trying to help, assuring him that they’ll manage just fine, guests or not.

Junmyeon seems hesitant to get undressed in front of him, and so Chanyeol does his best to make this the least awkward it has to be. He gets undressed and places his clothes in a small basin, pouring soap over it all to soak the grime out of the garments, before he does a quick rinse to get rid of most of the dirt on his skin. He doesn’t want to get into a tub with all of that still on his skin. 

“Do you need help with taking off the bandages?” He looks up once he’s washed himself down once. Junmyeon has gotten undressed and placed his clothes in the basin as well, but he’s now just standing there, a little hunched over, his left arm bent at the elbow and pressed against his chest even without the sling. He’s not meeting Chanyeol’s gaze, his right hand hovering over his genitals in a shy attempt to hide his body from Chanyeol’s eyes. He looks so boyish, standing there, wanting to hide, which in turn makes Chanyeol question if he should be so comfortable with nudity- but the army really forced him to become alright with communal showers and such. 

He can tell, though, that Junmyeon isn’t staring at his dick, or even his body. His eyes keep drifting to Chanyeol’s shoulder, where the biomechanical parts meet his skin and flesh. That’s to be expected- it’s what most people are curious about, when they meet him. It’s kind of startling, the transition from skin to metal, his toned body changing into a machine. The arm doesn’t even look like a human arm, its mechanisms protected under thin, hard plastic, the metal parts moving underneath it as he uses his hand. 

The elbow is a rotating ball, as is the shoulder joint as well, although he has them locked into ranges of movement where they’re most human like, just so he doesn’t scare anyone by bending his elbow the wrong way. The forearm is the most intricate, with the turning disks and switches for different mechanism, the casing hiding away his blades and other tools when he’s not using them. If he had the military grade weapons in, he’d store those in the bicep part, but he has no use for guns of that caliber. Not usually, anyway.   
It’s natural Junmyeon would be curious, but Chanyeol doesn’t know if it’s something he wants to discuss. 

“Yeah, I need help…” Junmyeon tugs on the bandages with his left hand. Chanyeol wastes no time, and steps up behind him to start undoing them. This, at least, is familiar routine by now. When the bandages come off, the skin over the wound looks almost normal; the edges of the skin patches haven’t melted together completely smooth and the skin looks tender and fragile over where the disk had been, but at least the wound has closed properly. It’s still painful, but it’s not in immediate danger of bursting open anymore.

“I’ll pour the water over you, so you just scrub off the dirt.”

They step into the same tub once Junmyeon has rinsed himself off. They both have to sit with their legs folded to have enough room, but the hot water feels heavenly against bare skin. Chanyeol can’t help the relieved groan that leaves him as he sinks as far down as he can, enjoying the relaxing touch of water on his sore muscles. Although he’s used to hiking and hard physical activity, it still gets to him, especially with the backpack on his shoulders and the sled he has to pull with him wherever they go. 

Junmyeon has his knees hugged to his chest, chin resting on his knees, his eyes closed. “This feels so good,” he murmurs, blindly reaching out to cup water in his palm and brush it over his arms. “It feels good to be back to civilization. A real house, running water…” 

Chanyeol chuckles at that, even as he reaches for the bottle of shampoo to lather his own hair. “Don’t get used to it, it’s only for tonight,” he says. “But I agree. It does feel nice.” The building is relatively nice, for such a rundown place as this hostel. Coming from the slums of Lost Seoul, these small cities surprise you with the quality of life they can sometimes provide. 

When he glances at Junmyeon, he finds him staring at him, watching him shampoo his hair with his left hand. “Does your arm not malfunction in water like this,” he asks softly, eyes drifting to Chanyeol’s right arm. “With its mechanisms and all.” 

“Ah, no,” Chanyeol replies, reaching for the big scoop to start pouring water over his head to rinse off. “It’s well made, it doesn’t break that easily. It’s meant to be the last thing about me that breaks down, really.” 

“But it does break.” Junmyeon points that out as a matter of fact. He’s seen Chanyeol fiddle with the mechanisms, has heard Chanyeol curse at it when doesn’t do as he tells it to. Chanyeol uses the excuse of soapy water running down his face to not answer immediately. 

“Well, yeah. The model isn’t exactly new anymore, and some of the parts are starting to get worn down. I should get a new one, but military grade equipment is hard to come by.” He holds out the bottle of shampoo to Junmyeon who also has to shampoo his hair with just one hand, his left arm still too sore to lift it above his head.

“Military grade?” Junmyeon’s eyes are sharp as he glances at Chanyeol again. “You said something about military before… were you a soldier?” 

This is exactly the reason why Chanyeol doesn’t like talking about his biomechanical arm. He’s fairly sure that the old couple isn’t looking to turn on them, but the noises from the bathroom probably carry. He splashes the water about, and then scoots closer to Junmyeon to start washing his hair, making even more noise and speaking lower now that they’re so close. Junmyeon no longer pulls away from his touch like it burns, having gotten used to it when cleaning the wound and changing bandages, but his whole body still grows rigid with Chanyeol in such close proximity. 

“I was,” Chanyeol tells him. “Years ago. I enlisted after high school, didn’t think I was suited for anything else. Military men make good money, get all sorts of benefits. The government only cares about the military now, because it’s what they need to stay in power. They learned that from the old north, back when we still used to be divided.”  
Junmyeon doesn’t move to pull away, so Chanyeol grabs the packet of dye to apply it onto Junmyeon’s hair. The faster they have it black, the less they have to worry about people seeing them. Junmyeon’s beauty, quite probably enhanced with surgery and fillers in its almost unreal perfection, will still attract attention- but at least the blond hair will stop standing out like a beacon on a dark sea. 

“How was it like in the army?” Junmyeon asks, splashing water around idly as Chanyeol works on his hair. “You’re no longer serving, so I guess the good money wasn’t enough to keep you there.” 

“It wasn’t.” Chanyeol still feels this tightness in his chest, thinking back to his army days. Especially around the time he got his biomechanical arm installed. “I quickly found out I didn’t like people telling me what to do, but I also didn’t like the stuff they were telling me to do. I had been kind of naïve before, thinking that the government cared about us but was just helpless to do anything… but in the army, I truly saw that it was a lie. That the government and the military were working together, to maintain their power. To keep us regular people poor, and weak. And I didn’t like that. I didn’t want to become another cog in the machine that treats people so badly.” 

There’s more to the story- stories of acts of cruelty he witnessed first hand, done to his fellow soldiers but to regular citizens as well. Stories of glimpses of wealth he saw, of how the regular citizens are being deprived so the rich and the army could have more. But it’s a gruesome tale, in all of its details, and this is not the place to share that. And Junmyeon might not be the right person to hear it, either, for Chanyeol isn’t unaware of the nightmares he sometimes has. He has his own demons already. 

“So you left. You ran away as well. Like I’m doing.” Junmyeon doesn’t phrase it as a question either. He turns around to let Chanyeol get the back of his head, to cover every strand of hair in the black dye. “Or did they just let you go?”

“No, I had to leave. It wasn’t easy. In their eyes, there can be no such thing as an ex-soldier. When you know too much, you become a liability.” Getting out hadn’t been simple, and he had to go underground to avoid the punishment that he was due. He was lucky he met Yixing, who helped him build his new life as a smuggler. With his forged and fake IDs, he’s been able to leave his old life behind. Should he ever be caught, the army could still recognize him- his irises and DNA cannot be changed after all. But for as long as that doesn’t happen, he’ll be safe. He intends to keep it that way. 

There’s a moment of silence. Chanyeol finishes applying the dye, and washes his hand clean. The water in the tub is growing colder, but for now it’s still comfortable. He feels suddenly so, so exhausted, and his body is unwilling to move. The past days with Junmyeon have been more taxing on him than he would like to admit. 

Junmyeon turns back around, starts to properly scrub himself down. “And your arm… did the army give you that?” he asks, eyes watching Chanyeol carefully. Chanyeol realizes that reading people’s reactions to his words and actions was probably a very crucial skill for his survival as a slave. The thought of what Junmyeon could see in him is uncomfortable, if not downright scary. Chanyeol isn’t used to being an open book.

It’s also an uncomfortable question, even if he knew it was coming. 

“They didn’t so much give it to me, as they just told me it needed to be done.” He runs the artificial fingers through water, watching the soap bubbles cling to them, yet he can’t feel anything. Cannot feel the temperature, cannot feel the water move. There’s nothing there, but the visual information that he should feel something. 

“I didn’t have much of a choice. It was either my arm or my leg, and I chose the arm because I thought it would be less painful. And maybe it was- but looking back, I would rather be missing a leg than an arm. Just for the sake of my own humanity.” To be able to touch, to feel, to be touched. Arms and especially hands, they’re so incredibly important. So inherently human. To hold, to be held, to embrace- and now, he can only watch as the touch of his biomechanical arm makes people tense up, pull away, twitch, shudder. It’s so useful, makes him so much stronger, but it’s also a loss that he’ll never stop grieving for as long as he’ll live. 

Junmyeon hesitates, before placing his palm on Chanyeol’s bare knee. The touch is so light, so delicate, and feels oddly out of place. Maybe because it’s been so long since anyone has touched him like that- maybe because he didn’t ever expect Junmyeon to initiate physical contact willingly. 

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon whispers. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that. It isn’t right… it really isn’t right. You gave me my body back… I’m sorry that I cannot give you yours.” 

The heartfelt words cut a little too deep, into a place that Chanyeol didn’t even know was hurting. He’s not used to pity- not used to compassion. The world he lives in is harsh and cruel, and even between friends, they never let their guards down. He would have never had this conversation with Yixing, no matter how much he trusts him professionally. He would trust his life to Yixing, but wouldn’t ever let him hear any of this.

He doesn’t know how to respond. Junmyeon pulls his hand back, curls back in on himself, probably feeling rejected. Chanyeol doesn’t want that, doesn’t want him to think that, yet he has no idea how to express his feelings- and what are the appropriate feelings to have.

“I’ve lived with this for years,” he decides on. “It isn’t causing me pain. So don’t feel too sorry for me, it isn’t worth it. Maybe one day I can afford to buy myself a model that looks like a real human arm- I’ve heard that the best models even allow you to feel like it was real skin.”

Junmyeon smiles softly at that, tracing his fingers up his own arm and shoulder. “Well, maybe the money I paid you will be enough for that,” he replies. “I don’t know how expensive things like that are, but I hope you’re now closer to getting one.” 

Junmyeon is right, but something about that doesn’t feel right. Chanyeol is so used to living with very little, only investing his money as wisely as he can and saving up the rest, to keep building himself a steadier, better future. To spend so much money on something that is, ultimately, just aesthetics and selfish desire rather than practical or even useful, it seems like such a waste. 

But Junmyeon looks so delighted by the idea, Chanyeol cannot let him down. 

“Maybe that’s what I’ll use the money on. But c’mon, let’s wash your hair now and get out. We need to make the most out of the real beds we got for tonight, before we have to get back on the road tomorrow.”

Never stop moving, never pause to think. Live like a rolling stone.


	3. Chapter 3

Spending the night in an actual bed feels almost frighteningly pleasant, so comfortable that Chanyeol has trouble falling asleep because his mind is on alert, thinking that something has to be wrong. His sleep is shallow and he keeps waking up every couple of hours, heart beating fast in his chest. But every time he opens his eyes, there’s nothing but the silent darkness of the room, and the sound of Junmyeon’s soft snores and snivels coming from the bed next to his. 

He wakes Junmyeon up early and they leave the hostel before the couple even arrives there, Chanyeol leaving them a neat pile of bank notes on the reception table before they sneak out of the building. Junmyeon keeps his hood down, for the first time ever, his newly dyed hair a stark contrast against his pale skin. Somehow though, he doesn’t blend in any more than he did before- he’s just too beautiful, Chanyeol concludes with a quiet sigh to himself. But there’s nothing to be done about that.

The day is completely uneventful. They’re entering the mountain range now, and Chanyeol knows they will have to pass through the first road tunnel going through a mountain soon, or find a way around it. The tunnels are usually taken over either by bandits or by the army; if it’s criminals, all they care about is money, but if it’s the army, that could mean trouble. He’s prepared to tough it out in the mountains and just get past the tunnels that way, but Junmyeon… he’s not so sure about. Junmyeon’s surgery took a lot out of him, and he still hasn’t fully recovered which means he hasn’t gotten stronger either despite the constant physical activity. That worries Chanyeol, but it’s out of his control.

They’ll just push on day by day.

But that night, he suddenly gets a phone call. 

They’re camping in one of Chanyeol’s regular camping spots. It’s raining that night, so they set up a proper shelter to sleep in, the waterproof canvases draped over branches and secured in place to keep them dry through the night. Like this, they have to sleep pressed very close together because there isn’t much space, but at least it’ll help them stay warm. Junmyeon is already dosing off, his eyes blinking open and closed slowly, his breaths evened out, when Chanyeol’s phone buzzing in his pocket startles him back into alertness. 

There are only a few people who could be calling him about anything, and Chanyeol isn’t surprised to see Yixin’g name on the screen. But he does wonder what he could be calling him about- Yixing should know he’s still on the job, and nowhere near being finished. Unless he thought of something he wants Chanyeol to pick up on the way, or bring to him from Busan perimeter. 

When the call connects, there’s no hologram, just Yixing’s voice, coming in hurried, hushed, tense. Not scared, but stressed, nervous even- emotions that Chanyeol isn’t used to coming from Yixing. Something’s not right. 

“My quarters got raided tonight,” he says, without greeting. “No damage done, I got away unscathed and so did most everybody else. The raiders weren’t police though, or soldiers even. These are private gangsters, idiots for hire. The government didn’t send these after me.” 

“Then who did? Were they looking for something?” The dots are already connecting- Chanyeol knows Yixing wouldn’t tell him about this if it didn’t somehow relate to him. 

“There aren’t many people of this caliber I’ve been messing with as of late,” Yixing replies. It sounds like he’s walking briskly outside, probably hurrying to get away from the building and to safety. “It has to be Junmyeon’s owner. I don’t know how it took him this long to take action, though. That’s what’s weird about it, it’s been over a week.”

Junmyeon is barely breathing next to Chanyeol, and Chanyeol can feel the fear take root in his mind as well. This means trouble. “Maybe it took him this long to get a lead,” he says, although he really has no clue. “So did they get anything? Are they coming after us?” 

“My data is all deleted and removed.” That Yixing says with confidence. “That’s the first thing that gets wiped out when something like this happens. Not the first time. But they could still dig up something, I don’t know, like video footage from other buildings of you coming and going. It’s possible.” 

“So he could find out who I am.” Or at least, Chanyeol’s real name, if the footage is clear enough- it shouldn’t be, and he was wearing a mask, but there’s always a risk. “Doesn’t get him far though, I’ve been using fake identities for years. There’s not a single trace of Park Chanyeol ever since I left the army.” 

“That’s true. But there could now be a bounty on Junmyeon’s pretty little head.” And Yixing isn’t wrong- it’s more than likely that the guy is trying to get to him any way he can. Chanyeol had already gotten hopeful that it wouldn’t happen, since no sign of it appeared right after their departure, but now things have gotten serious again.

“So who’s this guy anyway? Does he have just a lot of money, or is he someone in the government too?” He never thought to ask- he just assumed that if Junmyeon was able to somehow swindle three million out of him, he couldn’t have been so smart.

Yixing chuckles, unamused. “You could say that,” he says dryly. “The man is only the prime minister.”

The prime minister. Chanyeol snaps his head around to look at Junmyeon, who’s practically covering in fear now, curled up into a tiny ball and quivering. “The prime minister,” Chanyeol repeats, “only the fucking prime minister himself. That’s fucking fantastic, isn’t it? Why didn’t anyone tell me about this before I took this fucking job?” 

He feels betrayed, almost. If Junmyeon’s owner is the prime minister, that means the guy has endless resources to hunt them down. He probably can’t send the whole army after them, but he can pull a lot of strings to land them in hot water. The whole mission has been ten times more dangerous than he thought it would be, and he’s not happy. Not at all. 

“You didn’t ask,” Yixing says curtly. “So I didn’t say. And would you have refused the gig, had you known about this? Don’t tell me those three mils didn’t give you a boner just thinking about it, Park. Besides, it’s too late now. You’re involved now, and you can’t wash your hands clean from this. I’ll handle the situation up here the best as I can, but I just thought it would be fair to warn you guys to avoid any and all army troops at all costs. Got it? Stay safe, kiddos.” And he ends the call, just like that, the line going silent. Junmyeon and Chanyeol are left with nothing but the sound of raindrops hitting the waterproof fabric and dripping down from it, the heaviness of it suddenly almost suffocating. 

It’s hard for Chanyeol to stay still, the frustration still building up in his body. “You should have told me,” he hisses at Junmyeon, who only curls up even smaller, almost completely hidden in his sleeping bag now. “You should have told me what kind of man you were running away from!” 

“But you didn’t ask,” Junmyeon whispers, repeating Yixing’s words. “I thought Yixing told you! I thought you knew!”

“Well I didn’t fucking know,” Chanyeol snaps back, although he can’t deny the truth in Junmyeon’s words. He should have asked- or Yixing should have told him. 

But regardless, there’s no point crying over spilled milk. This is the situation now, and he has to deal with it somehow. Yixing’s building got raided and Yixing will sort that out, try to hide the tracks, and Chanyeol… he has to take care of the rest. 

“Fucking great,” he huffs, rubbing a hand down his face roughly. His whole body is on high alert now, suddenly acutely aware of the danger they’re in even if it’s not yet so concrete. “Fucking fantastic…” 

“Are they… are they coming after us?” Junmyeon’s voice is small, thin. He hasn’t emerged from hiding yet, his body still trembling beneath the fabric. “Are they hunting me down?” 

His fear is palpable. And Chanyeol can understand- he understands now why Junmyeon is so afraid of the man, the kind of terrors he had to live through. There’s no telling what would happen to Junmyeon if he were caught running away and having stolen his master’s money.

That’s another thing that Chanyeol never asked questions about.

“How did you get the money?” he asks. He wants to shake Junmyeon, wants to force him to look at him, but he knows that he would only scare him senseless. There’s no use in punishing him like that. He has to focus on the here and now, and let go of his anger, to avoid making rash decisions. “How did you get the money you paid me?” 

“From my master,” Junmyeon says quietly. “I used his fingerprint, when he was sleeping, to access one of his cards… Yixing told me how to transfer the money so it couldn’t be traced, so that there would be no way to tell where the money went. My master, he has so many cards and accounts- I just picked one, I don’t know which one it was.” 

“So maybe it’s an account that he doesn’t use very often, if it took him this long to get upset about it.” Chanyeol doesn’t know what else would explain the delay. But if the man knew where all the money went for certain, he wouldn’t have bothered raiding Yixing’s premises with his own goons. He would have told the police and gotten Yixing arrested. “He didn’t know Yixing is the one who got the money… He must have just gotten surveillance footage from somewhere, seen you go into the building. That’s the only thing that makes sense…” 

“Are they now coming for me?” Junmyeon pokes his head out, slowly, probably feeling assured now that Chanyeol’s anger has blown over. “Yixing said… there’s a bounty on my head.” 

“We can’t know for sure,” Chanyeol replies honestly. “But chances are that yes, he’s looking for you. If he raided Yixing’s office today, there’s no way he’d know yet where we are, and Yixing isn’t going to tell him… But they still might get another lead, to bring him closer to us. There’s no way to track us, but of course we have been seen by others, others who could talk. I don’t know. The stakes have gotten higher, that’s for certain. But it’s not like we were going to mess with the army anyway, so nothing has really changed. We just have to be even more careful not to get caught by them for anything.” 

Really, there isn’t anything they can do. The only way forward is to push ahead like Chanyeol was already planning on doing- but now, he cannot forget that the prime minister is looking for them. Should they run into the army, there’s no wiggling out of a sticky situation; one scan at Junmyeon’s face and eyes will reveal him for who he is, and then they’re done for. They can’t take even the smallest chance of having to deal with soldiers.

Junmyeon whimpers, and Chanyeol feels sorry for him. Just as he had gotten somewhat used to this, had started to believe, taste freedom for the first time, now he has to begin to live in fear once more. Chanyeol has always had to live with the risks of his own trade- getting caught has always been dangerous for him. For Junmyeon, it must seem much more concrete, as though someone is looming over him now, reaching for him, ready to hurt him. 

“I already… got so comfortable,” Junmyeon says. He pulls the edge of the sleeping bag further down, revealing how he’s worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. His eyes are wide, panicked- Chanyeol has seen him fearful before, but this is something totally else. “I already somehow thought that I was safe. Here, with you. Lost Seoul and everything else already seemed so far away, Chanyeol. I’ve been naïve again, haven’t I…” 

In his words, Chanyeol hears his own spite and disdain for Junmyeon’s obliviousness about the ways of the common folk. He’s made fun of him, and been cruel about it several times on the trip- but now he feels guilty, realizing that Junmyeon has taken it to heart this much. He realizes with a start that Junmyeon’s own self-image is probably quite fragile; he’s probably never heard any positive things said about him, and as such, hurtful words probably linger a lot longer than for most people. 

Chanyeol never meant to be so heartless, but he has just been so blind. 

“It’s not wrong of you.” Once again, he finds that the comforting words don’t come easy. “We’ve made it far from the city already. Now we just have to be careful not to get in any trouble, and we’ll be alright. We’ll get you to Busan perimeter, and to Japan. We just have to keep calm, alright? So we don’t mess this up.” 

We. He’s not used to saying that. But over the past days that they’ve spent travelling together, Junmyeon has become more and more of a companion. He’s become more talkative, and he’s fallen into Chanyeol’s routines. He even helps set up the camp, now, as best as he could with what his injuries and the pain he’s been in. This feels less like Chanyeol hauling Junmyeon through all of this, and more just them doing this journey together. 

It’s kind of nice. 

“I guess… I guess you’re right.” Junmyeon doesn’t sound so convinced, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up to rub at his eyes. “I feel so sorry for Yixing… It’s not right he got into so much trouble because of me.” 

“Trouble comes with the territory,” Chanyeol says calmly. “We know to expect it, prepare for it. Yixing will be just fine. The guys were bloody idiots for not catching him- they clearly had no idea what kind of big fish they had in their hands. But Yixing has always been slippery. He’ll sort it out.” 

Junmyeon nods small, shifts closer to Chanyeol as he slowly unfurls himself. They’re touching now, almost all the way from shoulder to knee, and Chanyeol is itching to pull away but there’s nowhere to go in the narrow shelter. It’s odd that Junmyeon would seek to be so close to him, but perhaps it’s the fear- the darkness surrounding them everywhere that could be hiding anything, or anyone. 

They don’t exchange any more words over the matter, but before he drifts off, Chanyeol can feel Junmyeon resting his cheek on his shoulder, the touch feather light but still there, still real. 

He wakes up in the morning and to his surprise, finds the shelter empty. It immediately makes his heart skip beats- after the conversation with Yixing last night, such a massive irregularity in routine is jarring, scary. His hand is still whirring back to life, slowly gearing up again, but he switches the blade in the place of fingers and after listening to the morning calm, he leaps out of the shelter and rolls on his feet, looking around prepared to fight for his life. But there’s nothing there- no enemies, at least, just Junmyeon, brewing a stew for breakfast on the small fire he’s made, looking up at Chanyeol with wide eyes, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. 

“What are you doing up so early?” Chanyeol demands to know, feeling quite flustered. His senses are still on high alert, his skin crawling. It’ll take a while for the adrenaline to wear off. “You never get up before me.” 

“I- I couldn’t sleep,” Junmyeon stutters, staring at the blade on Chanyeol’s biomechanical arm. “So I figured I might as well wake up, help us prepare for the day.” 

It’s exactly what Chanyeol always does, when he can’t sleep for whatever reason. He feels so silly now, his cheeks growing red the longer he stands there like an idiot, still in his battle stance. He straightens up, switches the mechanism to get his fingers back and ready. 

“Well, uh, thanks for that. Sorry if I scared you.” 

“It’s alright. You’re just doing what you can to protect us.” Junmyeon flashes him a brief smile. “Let’s get going soon. I really want to push ahead now, since I’ve recovered enough. I know I’ve been holding us back.” 

At Chanyeol’s stare, Junmyeon also gets a little pink under the collar. “Uh, I mean. Please, can we go soon? I’d like us to leave…” 

He hasn’t ever demanded anything like this from Chanyeol- except maybe for when he wanted Chanyeol to take him with him on this trip. It seems like he must have done some thinking during the night, or in the morning. Chanyeol can’t say what’s going through his mind, but he seems to be filled with determination now- perhaps fueled by his fear of being caught, but determination nonetheless. It’s little more like the slave boy he met in Yixing’s office who knew what his offer was worth, and was ready to do anything it would take to make Chanyeol agree on the job. The same slave boy, who made Chanyeol cut his back open to remove the device controlling him, despite how much it hurt.

Junmyeon may be weak, but at his core, his will is still unbroken.

“Yes, of course. Let’s eat up and leave.” 

They make it to the first tunnel that day. Approaching it, Chanyeol can sense how people passing them by seem a bit unsettled, a little nervous perhaps, and the reason why is revealed when the tunnel comes into view. The entrance is flanked by military vehicles, and beams and gates have been set up to channel the people to the check-points. 

Chanyeol immediately grabs Junmyeon’s arm and yanks him back, so they fall back behind the curve in the road, not to be seen from where the soldiers are standing. “That wasn’t here last time,” he says quietly, and can read similar surprise on other people’s faces as well. “That wasn’t there before.” 

Junmyeon has paled completely, but doesn’t make a sound as he hurries to follow Chanyeol back where they came from, hurrying away from the tunnel. “Do you think… Do you think they’re here for me?” he asks quietly, lifting his hood up as though on instinct to hide. “Do you think that this… isn’t a coincidence?”

The exact same thought had flashed through Chanyeol’s mind. “I don’t know,” he replies. “I didn’t get a good look but they didn’t seem so alarmed, so they’re not here on a big mission… This could be a standard, random check-point, or this could be something else. But we’re not going through there, that’s for sure.” 

He had hoped that the tunnel might have been unguarded, or maybe held by bandits at most. Walking through it would have saved them a lot of time, but he also knew that the chances they would be able to pass through it were slim to begin with.

They jump off the road when a small path diverges from it, and follow the trail until they’re far enough from the old highway that no one can see them get off the beaten path and head back towards the mountain, this time walking in the shrubbery. The forest has grown thin and sparse around here, the mountainsides mostly covered in thick bushes and grass. It’s not so much cover and holds them down significantly, but Chanyeol has taken this route before and navigating around the mountain isn’t going to be so hard. This particular one isn’t so high or steep, so it should be okay. 

Junmyeon falls behind him, walking behind the hover sled. It makes Chanyeol a bit nervous- Junmyeon has somewhat grown out of his habit to always walk as his shadow instead of by his side, and not being able to see him feels oddly unsettling. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, making sure that he’s still there, and sometimes their eyes will meet and Junmyeon flashes him the briefest of smiles as if to assure him he’s alright. 

“This is so much easier,” Junmyeon says quietly, “the grass and shrubs are too tall for me. I would hold us down, if I walked next to you.” 

“Just don’t fall behind,” Chanyeol replies. “And don’t get lost.” 

“You’re a tower, Chanyeol,” Junmyeon quips. “You’re pretty hard to miss, or lose.” 

Chanyeol can’t help but laugh at that. Junmyeon’s humor has really blossomed over the past couple of days, too- talking with him feels less like talking to polite AI and more like talking to someone his age. He can tell that Junmyeon feels quite anxious about his reactions, only visibly relaxing when Chanyeol rewards his jokes with a smile or a laugh, but it’s progress. 

Junmyeon maybe has a better chance at adapting to normal life than what Chanyeol gave him credit for. 

The detour takes a long time, and when they get back on the old highway, the afternoon is already turning into evening. The road is even quieter than usual, people hurrying by with their heads down and shoulders hunched. Chanyeol feels immediately ill at ease but at the same time, he’s so relieved to be back on the road, wiping his sweaty brow with his sleeve as he helps Junmyeon climb out of the ditch and get on the asphalt. 

He’s about to make a comment about something mundane to Junmyeon when Junmyeon suddenly raises a finger to his lips to hush him, eyes darting back and forth wildly as if trying to spot something. Chanyeol is utterly confused by the action, tries to listen, but can’t quite make out what caught Junmyeon’s attention before the slave boy tugs him back into the ditch, both of them barely staying upright as they tumble to the bottom of it and back into the dry bushes, Chanyeol’s sled bobbing along and smacking him in the back of his head painfully as they go. 

“What the fuck,” Chanyeol exclaims, but Junmyeon silences him with a hand clasped over his mouth. His eyes are wide but he holds Chanyeol down with his body to stop him from getting up again, his urgency evident in his voice when he whispers in Chanyeol’s ear. 

“That noise,” he murmurs, his words slurring together with how fast he’s trying to talk, “do you not know what it is? We have to go back into the woods, Chanyeol, the army is here.” 

“What noise,” Chanyeol mouths under his breath, still straining his ears to pick up anything out of the ordinary. “What are you talking about?”

“You can hear it here,” Junmyeon replies, pressing his hand to Chanyeol’s sternum. “That slight vibration? In your head, too. It’s their new vehicles, ones with massive wheels- the engines don’t make any sound, you can’t hear them, it’s the new thing. They don’t sound like cars, so you can’t hear them coming. We have to get away, now.” 

Chanyeol has never heard of any of this, but what reason does he have not to listen to Junmyeon when their lives could be in danger? So, as surprised and confused as he is, he nods and then pushes Junmyeon off him, on the ground on his front. 

“Crawl,” he tells him. “Let’s crawl further away, so we can’t be seen from the road. Just stay low, and keep moving.” 

He waits for Junmyeon to start crawling ahead before he turns to the hover sled. The device is still on, whirring quietly where it’s holding itself above the ground, but right now Chanyeol can’t have that. It’s like a flag to expose them, and so he turns it off, instead opting to drag it along the ground like a real sled instead. It makes it much harder for him to move in the thick grass, but it’s also the only way to stay hidden.

Pressed against the ground like this, he can actually feel the vibration. The ground, it’s shaking- something heavy is approaching, and as silent as it is, it isn’t weightless. Junmyeon was right, you can’t hear it with your ears but you have to listen with your whole body. 

His blood runs cold just thinking about what would have happened, had Junmyeon not been on such high alert. 

Crawling up the side of the hill through the vegetation is slow progress, and even Chanyeol is sweating and panting heavily from exhaustion. The ground is shaking even more obviously now, and when he chances a look back at the road, he can actually see the first of the vehicles appear from around the curve in the road. And Junmyeon was right; they’re massive things, the scene so eerie as they make hardly any sound as they drive forward. They’re not advancing very fast though, headed towards the tunnel and undoubtedly headed to meet with the soldiers already stationed there at the gates. This, this is more serious- this is a lot more troops than what Chanyeol usually sees on the road like this, and he hopes to god that the prime minister would not send so many people just to hunt Junmyeon down or else they’re going to be in big, big trouble. 

“How did you know about these things?” he asks Junmyeon under his breath as they pause to watch the troops pass by, holding still in the small bit of cover they have. “Where have you seen these monsters before?” Because that’s how they look like to him; they’re massive vehicles with giant wheels, camouflaged with paint and panels on the sides, and probably full of guns and ammo, transporting perhaps dozens of men at once. Just the wheels look like they’re taller than Junmyeon; there no need for these to even drive on the road, the terrain would not hold them back.

“I’ve seen them in parades,” Junmyeon replies quietly, wiping at his forehead. “Military parades. These things are the newest achievement, I guess- everyone was so proud of this.” 

“I would be proud too, if I was driving one.” Chanyeol remembers the feeling of power that you have in driving a massive vehicle, or even just a fast one. He misses it- even if it’s the only good memory he has from the army, he misses it. 

“I guess.” Junmyeon doesn’t sound so convinced. “I think I’d just be scared- but I guess that’s the difference between us. Life is an adventure to you, and constant worry for me.”   
Chanyeol turns to look at him, really look at him. This is a rare moment of comradery- them catching their breath together, hiding in bushes on the hillside. Junmyeon just saved his life, probably and here they are, having this kind of conversation. It feels so odd, and it’s confusing. Confusing his mind, and his heart. This kind of easy companionship… it’s new. 

“Well, I do also worry sometimes,” he admits. “About this and that. But I try not to. It’s better to take action, to make sure the scary things don’t happen, or when they do, that I’m prepared for them. It’s no use just sitting around and waiting for it to get to you.” 

Junmyeon nods thoughtfully. “I guess… I guess I understand that better now. This entire experience… I’ve learned a lot.” 

“No kidding.” Chanyeol flashes him a smile, nudges his shoulder with his lightly. The last of the vehicles rolls by, soon disappearing behind another turn. “Alright, let’s get going. The road is too dangerous for now, we’ll have to keep walking on here.” 

Junmyeon scrambles back up on his feet, and helps Chanyeol stand up as well, steadying him by his right elbow as Chanyeol gets caught in the rope connecting him to the sled. The gesture makes Chanyeol look up, their eyes meeting- Junmyeon willingly touching his biomechanical arm, it’s something quite odd. Junmyeon’s cheeks flush even pinker than they were and he’s quick to let go when he’s sure Chanyeol is steady on his feet, even scurrying away from him and heading further up the hill to fully get away from the road. 

“Hurry up, soldier, we still have ways to go.” 

Chanyeol can’t help but agree, although the spot where Junmyeon touched his arm… he shouldn’t be able to feel a thing, yet it almost feels as though he does. 

He doesn’t know what to make of it, and decides that it’s silly anyway. They have more important matters at hand- survival being one of them. He has no time to entertain stupid ideas like that.

It’s best to just focus on what matters.

*****

They avoid the road for the following days. Progress is even slower like this, but the road scares Chanyeol now. With the army on the move, whether it’s to catch Junmyeon or not, it’s too risky. But the days are long, pushing through the wild terrain, and they’re sweaty and exhausted by the time they set up their camp. It’s good that Junmyeon had time to recover, otherwise this wouldn’t even be possible.

Since they’re now completely alone, they somehow find themselves engaging in more conversation than before. With just the forest witnessing their discussions, it’s easier to open up- there’s no need to worry about people listening in, paying attention to them. The sparse trees and thickets won’t tell their stories forward, or so Chanyeol at least hopes.

It’s a true testament to how much Junmyeon has grown to trust him that they can even joke around, now. To see Junmyeon laugh and smile, it’s meaningful. At least he isn’t so troubled by the danger they’re in, or can forget about it for passing moments. And although Chanyeol has never truly cared for sharing his life story with anyone, he still somehow shares most of it with Junmyeon. He doesn’t know what it is- perhaps Junmyeon’s curiosity in even the most mundane details of how average people live, or perhaps it’s how it encourages Junmyeon to also share more, to become closer with him. 

He doesn’t quite understand why he enjoys it so much, but having Junmyeon’s attention, knowing that he’s interested to find out more about him, that to Junmyeon this means something- it’s new, but not unwelcome. 

“I guess my life was pretty normal until I joined the military,” he muses as they wade through the grass. Junmyeon made himself a staff out of a big, wooden branch, walking next to Chanyeol steadily. “I was born in the north- almost as north as the mountains up there. I never knew my father but it didn’t seem important at the time. It’s hard to miss something you’ve never had.” 

And he does think of his childhood fondly. He grew up with very little, in a small town that survived on preparing supplies for the troops traveling up north to be stationed there. They were poor all his life, but he never went hungry. His hardworking mother made sure of that.

“Went to school there too, but I never liked it. It wasn’t for me. I enjoyed break times, though- we used to play soccer all year long. That was fun.” He never cared much for reading, and spent his time outside of school playing with his friends. It upset his mother, to see him not studying and preparing for a better life that way, but Chanyeol’s mind could not be changed. 

“Not that I wanted to stay in that town either. I wasn’t looking forward to growing up to work at the same factories my mother worked at all her life, so I decided I would enlist in the army. The troops passing through the town, they seemed so cool. I didn’t understand then why all the adults feared them so much. To me, just watching them was an adventure, and I knew I wanted to be like them. My mother was upset when I told her- but I guess she also thought there was money to be made there, so she let me go.” 

His time in the army he doesn’t wish to talk about, and he already explained what needs to be said of it earlier, in that hostel. Junmyeon still doesn’t need to know any more details of the gruesome experience. 

“The time I served… it changed me. I saw a lot, and for that I guess I should be grateful. Got to travel around the peninsula, see how people live. Learnt a lot of things, made connections. That’s when I met Yixing as well, and it was him who promised me he’d hire me if I ever decided on doing something else with my life. I guess he could see in my eyes that I wasn’t really… enjoying myself.” He chuckles dryly. “So I finally did. Running away from the military, they don’t make it easy. I knew I couldn’t go back to my mother because they’d wait for me there, so I went to Yixing instead. Got started on smuggling, doing smaller gigs at first and bigger stuff later. It’s how I’ve spent the last few years of my life.” 

“Do you enjoy this?” Junmyeon asks. It’s an odd question, in Chanyeol’s opinion, but with Junmyeon… he’s learnt that he should expect this by now. 

Somehow, it’s refreshing. Makes him feel seen, heard, that Junmyeon would think to ask him something like that. In his world, there’s been so little use even thinking about what he likes, or enjoys, or wants. Chanyeol’s been too busy surviving, all this while. 

“I think I do. I’ve never thought much about it.” The skies are getting darker. It might rain tonight, which means they’ll have to set up a proper camp to stay dry. “I get to come and go as I will. I like the excitement, and I like making my trips on my own. It’s just me and no one else. No one to answer to, no one to worry about. You don’t ever get to be alone like that, in Lost Seoul. Or anywhere.” 

Junmyeon nods thoughtfully. “I think I understand,” he says. “Having travelled with you like this… it is so nice, to be away from it all. As though the rest of the world has ceased to exist for a while. But I’m sorry that I had to impose you on like this, ruin your trip as a lone wolf.” 

Chanyeol throws his head back as he laughs at Junmyeon’s dry quip. “I think I’m okay with this,” he muses, nudging Junmyeon’s shoulder lightly. “You’re not so bad for company. You don’t chatter my ear off.”

“I’ve learnt to know when to be quiet,” Junmyeon says, his smile falling. “Reading people is my only special talent. But you’re not so hard to read, after a while. At first I couldn’t understand you… But now, it’s not so difficult.” 

Something about Junmyeon’s statement makes Chanyeol uneasy. Thinking about all the things Junmyeon might have taken notice of, it sets an itch to his skin. He would like to be a mystery, an enigma, because revealing weakness has never worked in his favor. But there’s also a part of him that has grown to trust Junmyeon- otherwise, he wouldn’t have shared his life story with him. And like Junmyeon said, reading people is his ultimate survival skill. They’ve been on the road together for a long time now, of course Junmyeon has come to know him in that time.

“I couldn’t understand you either,” he says instead, hoisting his backpack higher to adjust its weight. “I’ve never met any slaves before, so that was one thing. But I guess you’re not so easy to read yourself, are you.” 

Junmyeon lowers his head to hide his expression, but Chanyeol still catches a glimpse of his smile. “I’m good at keeping secrets,” Junmyeon replies with. “Especially when they’re my own. I guess we both wanted to keep our own distance from each other… but it’s hard to do that, when you spend so much time together. Go through so much.” 

“Indeed.”

True to Chanyeol’s prediction, it rains that night. Once more, they have to huddle close in the small tent Chanyeol put together with the materials they have supported by branches of the nearby trees. Junmyeon is pressed right up against him, so much so that Chanyeol thinks it would be more comfortable to slip his arm under Junmyeon’s neck and hold him there like so. He can’t see anything in the darkness but he’s seen Junmyeon’s sleeping face enough to know how he looks when he sleeps, and the mental image gives him the strange urge to pet his hair, touch his immaculate skin… But he knows better than to do that, for several reasons. 

The next day is humid and hot. The winds have changed and they’re now blowing from the west, bringing in hot air from the grand desert of China. If the winds keep blowing from that direction, everything will eventually be covered in a layer of fine, yellow dust; Chanyeol heard that once upon a time, there only was a yellow dust season once a year, in the Old World, but now, the dust can arrive at any time if the winds are strong enough. He can’t yet smell it in the air, and he hopes that it won’t happen. It reminds him too much of Lost Seoul, the permanent smell of smoke there. But at least the desert winds will dry away the humidity that is currently making their clothes stick to their skin and sweat bead at their brows. 

That is the reason why chancing upon a small waterfall feels like a true blessing from the gods. 

It’s just a small mountain river, pooling up slightly before flowing down the short waterfall, perhaps four meters tall in total. Beneath it are sharp rocks, the water crashing into them loudly before making its way forward, disappearing from sight soon after. The current is quite strong right now, probably thanks to how hard it rained last night, and Chanyeol is ready to take a dip in it.

“How about we stop and bathe ourselves for a moment?” he suggests to Junmyeon. “We’ve gotten dirty and sweaty many a time since we left the hostel, and who knows when we’ll get a chance to wash ourselves again. We should take advantage of it.” 

“With the humidity like this, it’s almost like we’re in water already,” Junmyeon laughs even as he throws his backpack down and leans down to start undoing his shoelaces. “You’re right, let’s make the most out of this.”

Chanyeol is already half way naked, stripping down quickly in his excitement to get in the water. He’s always enjoyed swimming, and he doesn’t get to do it as often as he’d like. Closer to the cities, even wild creeks and rivers are usually tainted with pollution if not completely dried up, but this one seems quite clear and beautiful. In a couple of days it might also have a layer of yellow dust dirtying it, so they stumbled upon it at the right time. 

The water is cold when he wades into it, careful of the uneven rocky bottom and cautious of the waterfall, not wanting to get too close to it. Junmyeon is even more cautious, however, and he sits down in the water close to the edge of it, clearly uncomfortable but flashing Chanyeol a reassuring smile when he turns to look. 

“I’ve never been in a river before,” he admits, although it hardly is surprising. “And I don’t know how to swim. But it feels nice. It’s so cool on the skin.” 

“It’s nice,” Chanyeol admits. “Refreshing. I think it’s even safe to drink, we should fill up our supplies.” At least it doesn’t smell weird. Even the rain coming from the sky is always polluted, but after boiling, it should be okay. If it’ll give them a couple more days before they have to venture into another town, it’s worth it. 

They take their time washing up. It feels like a welcome break from their journey, a chance to forget about the sense of dread looming over them ever since Yixing gave them the bad news. It’s a small safe haven, at least for this short while, with nothing but the sounds of nature keeping them company, and the constant roaring of the water as it hits the rocks below them. There’s not much space to swim around in the small shallow pond that has been formed above the fall and eventually Chanyeol drifts closer to Junmyeon, closer to the edge of the water, where they both scrub themselves down with the piece of soap Chanyeol brought in his supplies. The soap bubbles float around them and then disappear down the fall, drifting away together with the grime they wash off their skin. 

“How much longer will it be until we reach Busan perimeter?” Junmyeon asks quietly. “I’ve lost count of the days we’ve been out here… But you never told me exactly how long this was going to take.” 

Chanyeol shrugs his shoulders, dunks his head in the water to wash last of the soap off. “Maybe a week, if we can keep up a good pace and nothing happens,” he estimates. “But I’d say closer to two weeks, to be safe. If we have to keep in the woods and all.” 

“That’s a long time…” Junmyeon mutters, running his hands through the water. “But I guess I don’t mind. I’ve grown used to this. Whatever awaits after, that’s going to be a new adventure. Something I have no idea how to do.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Chanyeol has more faith in that now than he did when they started. Junmyeon has proven to be a quick learner and a lot braver than Chanyeol had assumed. “You’ll sail over to Japan and start anew there. It’ll be just fine.” 

Junmyeon is silent for a moment, although Chanyeol can tell how his cheeks grow a shade pinker. “But I won’t have you with me anymore,” he says, almost so quiet that Chanyeol has trouble hearing him. “I won’t have you around… telling me what a menace I am and teaching me things. I don’t know how that’ll feel.” 

It’s such a serious confession, and it takes Chanyeol by surprise. It’s so heartfelt, too, and to answer it flippantly would be insensitive. Even an emotionally stunted idiot like Chanyeol can understand that. But the underlying tension there, in those words, it should scare him, yet somehow, he’s leaning closer to Junmyeon instead. He should just say something encouraging and change the topic but his body is moving on its own accord, shifting closer, drawn in even as he still struggles to find the right words.

He reaches out to touch Junmyeon’s knee that’s sticking above the surface of the water. “Junmyeon… I’ve really enjoyed your company-”

But he never gets to finish that sentence. Junmyeon perks up suddenly, eyes growing wide. “I hear something,” he whispers, obviously alarmed. “I heard… something. Something’s moving in the forest.” 

Chanyeol strains his ears, but doesn’t pick up on anything. Yet Junmyeon already saved his life once with his superior hearing, and he isn’t going to discredit him now. They can’t be too careful, not out here.

“Hurry, let’s get dressed and get moving.”

They hurry out of the water and to their clothes, rushed to pull them on as fast as they can, although the water on their skin doesn’t make it any easier. It’s in that moment that Chanyeol’s biomechanical arm decides to malfunction, probably due to being submerged in water; something just switches off, and the fingers stop obeying him, making it next to impossible to put on clothes as he can only grip things with his left hand. But there’s no time to be wasted, and he just cusses under his breath, roughly pulling his pants up as he shoves his feet into his shoes blindly. Junmyeon does his best to help him when he notices, his small hands making work of Chanyeol’s fly and belt and then attaching the hover sled to the D link at the back.

Chanyeol is about to thank him, when he sees brief movement from the corner of his eye, and then he hears the definite sound of a boot stepping on a wooden branch and then the snap of the branch as it breaks. It’s definitely humans, probably several of them, and his first instinct is that it’s no good. No one comes into the woods unless they have things to hide- and running into someone else means trouble.

The voices start to carry now too and it only confirms to him that it’s multiple men, cussing loudly as they go. “Bandits,” he hisses, throwing his backpack on his shoulders. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. They can’t climb a tree fast enough to get out of sight, not with the amount of things they have. They haven’t been spotted yet but it’s only a matter of time- and he doesn’t want to wind up in physical combat, not with his arm like this, not with helpless Junmyeon to protect. 

That leaves only one option. 

He instantly knows he can’t tell Junmyeon. 

“Duck your head down,” he says as the only warning, turning to Junmyeon, who blinks once at him before doing as told, tilting his head down, chin to his chest. Chanyeol takes a step back and then pushes forward, barreling into Junmyeon’s body with his full weight, digging his boots into the grass as he runs forward one step, two steps, three steps- and then his next step no longer touches the ground, going over the edge of the waterfall.

He uses the momentum he can to turn them, arms wrapping around Junmyeon and holding him tightly to his chest as he twists them around midair. The weightlessness only lasts the shortest split second, the fall so short yet so scary at the same time, and they come down together, landing on the sharp rocks below in one heap, the hover sled landing beside them in an odd stroke of luck, Chanyeol’s backpack doing the same since he only had it hoisted on one shoulder.

The sound of the water swallows up the noise of them hitting the ground, but Chanyeol really has to grit his teeth not to scream out loud. Something sharp pierced through his back, he could feel it, and it hurts to breathe, it hurts to inhale, and his hip also aches, the sharp pain travelling down his right leg like liquid fire. He knows it’s bad, he knows he just fucked up his entire body, but he knows that the danger isn’t over yet. They still have to get away. 

Junmyeon lifts his head up and scrambles to get off of Chanyeol, eyes and mouth wide as he stares at him, the water rushing around them and over Chanyeol’s body. It stains red underneath him from where he’s bleeding, but it gets washed away instantly with the flow. Chanyeol coughs, but pushes himself up, hissing under his breath in an attempt to keep silent. Junmyeon flutters close, hands hovering over him but unsure of where to touch, what to do- to press him back down or to help him up, panic written all over his features. 

“We have to hide,” Chanyeol wheezes, rolling over on all fours. The pain bursts everywhere and his vision goes black for a moment as he struggles to keep breathing, to stay conscious. If he passes out here, they’re done for. “We have to hide, now.” 

Junmyeon looks around wildly, before zeroing in on something. “There’s a small cave next to the waterfall,” he says, scampering to help Chanyeol on his feet, slipping underneath his armpit to haul him up. It’s a massive effort and Chanyeol isn’t even sure how they succeed, Junmyeon wavering underneath his weight and Chanyeol’s entire body screaming at him to give up, just lay down and give up. But step by painful step, they cross the river, fighting the stream, and Chanyeol collapses into the small opening that has been formed right next to the waterfall. It’s only a tiny cave but it’s their best bet, and the bandits must be close now. If they come down along the stream, they’re going to see them. 

Junmyeon musters all of his strength to push him inside. Chanyeol manages to sit up, back pressed against the rough wall of the cave, and he can just helplessly watch Junmyeon struggle with the hover sled, to lift it into the small alcove as well. It’s big and cumbersome, one of the hovers seems to have gone out and the sled is heavy, but Junmyeon grits his teeth and shoves it in with herculean effort. He throws Chanyeol’s backpack on top of it, as well as his own small bag. 

“Hurry, inside, now,” Chanyeol hisses through gritted teeth, although he can’t be sure Junmyeon even hears him over the sound of the water. Junmyeon carefully crawls inside, finding his footing so he doesn’t step on Chanyeol, but the cave is small and there’s nowhere for him to go.

Chanyeol solves his hesitation by reaching out and yanking him on top of him, holding him there despite how much it hurts. Junmyeon looks up at him, alarmed, and shuffles around so that he’s positioned in between Chanyeol’s legs to avoid putting weight on him, hand leaning on the wall behind Chanyeol to support himself. 

“Where’d you get hurt?” he asks, eyes full of worry. Chanyeol hushes him, trying to strain his ears to listen for any noises from outside, but Junmyeon hushes him right back.   
“They can’t hear us, and we can’t hear them,” Junmyeon says, leaning in even closer to talk directly into Chanyeol’s ear. “Where did you get hurt? How bad is it?” 

“It’s bad,” Chanyeol grunts. He can barely even lift up his biomechanical arm now, the mechanism disobeying him at every joint. It must not have taken the landing well at all. “It’s real bad.” The pain is everywhere, blooming outside from the injuries. “My back’s punctured, my hip’s a mess. I think I broke a rib or two.” 

There’s no use in lying to Junmyeon about his injuries. He can’t just pretend that it’s alright- it’s not alright. He can read from Junmyeon’s face just how terrified he is hearing all this. 

“What are we gonna do,” Junmyeon whimpers, his lower lip starting to wobble like it’s prone to do when he’s upset. “What are we… going to do…” 

“We’re going to sit tight and wait,” Chanyeol grunts. “We’ll worry about the rest later, got it? Freaking out only gets you killed sooner, so calm down. I’ll survive this.” 

Junmyeon flinches back, but then nods obediently. He knows the truth in Chanyeol’s words. For a moment they just sit there, Chanyeol fighting to keep breathing through the pain while Junmyeon just stares at him, eyes searching for something Chanyeol doesn’t know he has. Time passes, slowly, torturously- they have no way to know if it’s safe to leave yet. 

“You took the fall for me,” Junmyeon says then, reaching out to cup Chanyeol’s cheek in his hand. His thumb strokes across Chanyeol’s cheekbone, underneath his eye. The touch is so tender, comforting, that Chanyeol can’t help but turn his head to it, chase it. His body is starting to shake and he can only pray he won’t go into shock. 

“I said I wasn’t going to take you out here to die,” he replies. “Remember? It’s my job to get you to Busan. I’m going to do it even if it kills me.”

He can taste iron in his mouth, and he can only hope that it’s not blood leaking into his lungs.

“You saved my life.” Junmyeon sounds like he can’t quite believe it. “Not for the first time… But you sacrificed yourself for me. To save me.” 

Chanyeol sighs, leans his head forward, and to his surprise, Junmyeon wraps his arms around him to hold him close, head resting on Junmyeon’s narrow shoulder. It’s so intimate, so gentle, and Chanyeol doesn’t know what to make of it. What to think of it. But in his frantic mind, it’s like salve on his wounds; it calms him, grounds him, in a way he didn’t know was possible. 

“Don’t want to see you hurt anymore.” The words coming out of his own mouth surprise even him. “Cutting you open was enough… I don’t wanna do it anymore. And you saved me too… you noticed the vehicles, you noticed the bandits before I did… We’re even, Junmyeon. It’s alright…” 

Suddenly a voice carries from outside, although the words are not clear. But it’s definitely a human voice, and it makes both of them freeze, hardly even daring to breathe. If those bandits find them here, they’re done for; they have nowhere to run, and Chanyeol can’t defend them. He has nothing left. He’s completely helpless, a feeling that sits ill with him. 

“If they find us,” he whispers into Junmyeon’s ear, wrapping his arm around his body to hold him closer for comfort. “You run as fast as you can. Just slip out of their hands and run, run to the road. Find a village or a town to stay in, gather supplies, and then carry on to Busan without me. Do you understand?” 

“Shh,” Junmyeon shudders as he shakes his head. “Shh, no. Don’t speak of such things. Quiet, now…” His wet lips press to Chanyeol’s cheek, his breaths hot, shallow, and Chanyeol thinks he can even feel his heart beat against his sternum with the way they’re pressed so close. “I won’t leave you… I won’t abandon you.” 

“Junmyeon…” But there’s nothing to be said. They just wait in silence, in the dark, with the roaring of the waterfall next to them, and Chanyeol finds himself praying. _Please… please let us both survive. Please don’t let them find us. I’ll do anything… Anything._

Time stretches on, and on. Slowly, their heart beats and breaths sync up and the tension bleeds away, the anticipation for assault slowly disappearing as nothing happens. Yet they still remain still, in each other’s embrace, waiting. 

Chanyeol loses track of time, the pain making his mind muddled. His thoughts wander aimlessly, before snapping back into the present moment; he thinks of his mother, his childhood home… Yixing… his time in the military… snapshots of his travels, his journey with Junmyeon. The steady sound of the waterfall is almost hypnotic and with the pain that crashes on him in tidal waves, it’s so easy to get lost.

It’s Junmyeon who moves first, carefully pulling away from Chanyeol to give him time to get his bearings, guiding him to rest against the cave fall. “It’s been an hour, almost,” Junmyeon whispers to him. “I’ll take a look, see if we’re safe. We can’t stay here, we have to treat your injuries.” 

“Be careful,” Chanyeol tells him, pleads him. “Don’t get hurt…” He’s starting to shiver, his body exhausted from the pain and blood loss. It’s going to be unbelievably hard to get out of this hiding place, and to make the trek to the nearest town. He honestly doesn’t know how he could make it. 

Junmyeon turns around in the small space, and crawls towards the opening to the alcove. He moves ever so slowly, cautiously peaking his head out, and all Chanyeol can do is hope that the bandits are gone. They should be- unless they decided to build camp at the riverside, which would be the worst case scenario for them. 

The end of the road. 

He closes his eyes and counts to three. 

“All clear. No one’s here.” 

Chanyeol can’t do anything to help Junmyeon pull the backpack and the sled out of the alcove. He rolls on his side and then on all fours, groaning in pain, scooting out of the small space backwards. Junmyeon comes back from taking their stuff to the river bank and helps him climb out, slipping underneath Chanyeol’s arm once again to help him walk. And Chanyeol guessed right- the pain has only grown tenfold, with his muscles getting stiff and the movement now tearing at the wounds that had somewhat sealed and settled, the dry blood and scabbing that had formed dragging with the tug of his clothes and allowing the wounds to open up again. Just wading through the stream and climbing out of the water has him panting and shaking, his right arm mostly just hanging uselessly at his side. 

Junmyeon looks worried, and rightfully so. “We need to patch you up,” he says, glancing at the sky. “The nightfall isn’t far away, now. We’re not going to make it to shelter tonight, are we? We have to set up camp.” 

“Not here, it’s too dangerous.” Chanyeol is dizzy, but he forces himself to stand up straight again, painful as it is. “The bandits could come back. We have to get out of here.” 

Junmyeon opens and closes his mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead he just nods, and goes to grab Chanyeol’s backpack and lift it on his shoulders. It’s massive, especially on tiny Junmyeon, and he has to bend his knees and lean forward a little so he doesn’t fall over, but he manages to find his balance. The sled stays barely above ground, one hover out and one other blinking in and out, but Junmyeon clips it to his belt too. 

At Chanyeol’s worried look he just shakes his head. “You can’t carry any of this,” he says simply. He offers Chanyeol the staff he’s been using to walk with. “If it’s going to be of any help… I don’t know. But I can’t carry you.”

“It’s fine.” Chanyeol knows it’s not fine. Every movement hurts, every breath hurts, but they have to keep pushing forward. “Let’s go.” 

They don’t make it very far. Chanyeol is simply too badly hurt; with his injured hip and back, and broken ribs, and malfunctioning arm, he can barely stagger forward for perhaps an hour before his legs give out. The pain is so intense that it eventually completely numbs him; all of his nerves are on fire, and with that overload, it almost feels like nothing. Just white fire swallowing him whole, his vision full of it, only the sweet sound of Junmyeon’s voice guiding him forward. But eventually his body just gives out, and he collapses into the mounds of moss beneath his feet, barely catching himself on time before he lands in it face first. 

Junmyeon helps him sit down, although not even that position is very comfortable. “I’ll set up camp, just wait, yeah?” Junmyeon tells him, his voice sounding like it’s coming from somewhere very far. Chanyeol would be worried about how drowsy he’s feeling, but he doesn’t have the strength for even that. He just watches in trance as Junmyeon putters around, setting up the alarms and then building them a small shelter like Chanyeol has done for them many times before. The spot isn’t particularly good for a camp, but at least there are some trees there for Junmyeon to use for tying the ropes so he can suspend the sheets of waterproof fabric up.

“Probably best not to make a fire, right?” Junmyeon says as he moves on to rummage through the items in the sled to take out the med kit. “Who knows who could be watching. But we need to take a look at your injuries now, Chanyeol. Patch you up, clean your wounds.” 

Chanyeol can’t do anything to help Junmyeon undress him, his arm still useless at his side. His last shirt comes off with much difficulty, stuck to his skin with sweat and dried blood, and Chanyeol collapses down on the moss on his side to give his back to Junmyeon. He doesn’t miss the way it makes Junmyeon gasp out loud in horror, when he sees the puncture on his back. 

“How bad is it,” he asks regardless, his tongue barely moving in his dry mouth. “How bad.” 

“I- I’ll have to clean it first.” Chanyeol can tell that Junmyeon does his best to be gentle, as he cleans the wound with rags, water, and disinfectant, but the only reason why Chanyeol doesn’t scream out loud is that he’s too tired to. He just grunts into the crook of his arm, eyes closed, counting each painful breath until the torture finally ends. 

“It’s… It’s deep. It looks bad, Chanyeol, I can’t lie.” Junmyeon sounds nervous. Scared. “But I’ll put some skin patches on it, yeah? Wrap it up, so it doesn’t start bleeding again. Alright?” 

“Alright.” 

There’s not much else Junmyeon can do for him. There are only scratches on the rest of his body, none too deep. His hip and ribs can’t be helped, not with what they have, and Junmyeon cannot fix his arm for him either. Junmyeon makes him eat and then gives him some of the painkillers they have. It takes their joined effort to get Chanyeol to the shelter and into the sleeping bag, and he finds himself shivering even once he’s all wrapped up. His body is exhausted, broken, and it can’t go on anymore. He’s hit the wall, and he’s too tired to even be scared.

The drugs slowly take hold. He watches as Junmyeon gets settled as well, feels his body against his. “Chanyeol, I… I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you did today,” Junmyeon whispers to him in the twilight, his small hand pressing against Chanyeol’s cheek. “I’ll never forget. I’ll do my best to get you out of here, and get you back to full health. I promise. I know I’m small and weak, but I’ll fight. I’ll do whatever it takes. I won’t let you… let you die.” 

“It’s alright.” Chanyeol’s eyes slip closed, and he can’t open them again. “It’s alright… How could I be scared with someone like you by my side…”

In Junmyeon’s laugh, there are tears. “I’m doing my best. Even if it’s not enough… I’ll give you my all. Just trust me… I won’t let you down.”

“I trust you.” 

Chanyeol would be surprised to realize that he means it, but sleep claims him before he can finish the thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Pain. 

His entire world is nothing but pain. He doesn’t remember even the amputation of his arm being this excruciating. As soon as sleep slips away and leaves him with nothing but consciousness and his entire body on fire, Chanyeol wishes he could go back to that mindless, black slumber where he didn’t know this suffering. But it won’t let him, it won’t allow him to go back, and when he opens his mouth, out comes only a low cry, wordless, guttural. 

It sparks movement next to him, and when Chanyeol forces his eyes open, he’s staring up at Junmyeon’s beautiful face. “Wait right here,” he hears him say, and when he opens his eyes again, Junmyeon is gone. Next blink, and Junmyeon is back, is holding something to his mouth. “Open up, I’ll spray this on your tongue.”

The bitterness of the drug barely registers with him, not even after the second or the third pump of the medicine. But it works- it dulls the fire, turns it into embers instead of dancing flames, and he regains some awareness of who he is, where he is, what has happened. What is going on, why his body has betrayed him like this. 

The bandits. The waterfall- the sharp rocks below. 

He groans, but Junmyeon is there, soothing him with a hand brushing his hair back from his forehead, squeezing his hand. “I’ll get you the other drug,” he says, “it’ll work better alongside the other one. Don’t move yet, alright? Just stay here, I’ll take care of everything.” 

It’s odd. To let someone else handle things for him- to do nothing, and just trust everything to Junmyeon. But Chanyeol doesn’t have a choice, here. Junmyeon gives him the pills and then disappears from the shelter, although Chanyeol can hear him moving around. The pain keeps retreating, inch by inch giving him his body back, although it never truly disappears. It’s lurking, and he knows that it’ll come back roaring once he tries to move.

But Junmyeon told him to stay put, and for once, he has no desire to disobey that. 

Suddenly he can see the trees and the sky again, as Junmyeon pulls down the tent. “I made a fire, I’m making us stew,” he says as he busily folds the fabric, struggling with the size of it but doing his darnest to make a good job of it. “It won’t stand out, now that it’s almost light out. The sun will be up in a little bit.”

“Good.” Chanyeol finally does what he’s been putting off this entire time- he sits up. And he was right in expecting it to be a complete nightmare, for every fiber of his being fights against moving, fights against commands from his brain. Not even the amount of drugs he’s on can mask how the pain is like hot, sharp blades sliding under his skin, but he knows there’s worse to come. They still have to get up, and start walking. They have to get out of the woods somehow. 

Junmyeon doesn’t cease his fluttering and fussing, all too close and constantly touching, doing something for him. He helps Chanyeol get dressed after checking on his bandages, brings him food and drink, keeps asking him how he’s feeling, if he needs more medicine, more time, more anything. It’s overwhelming, but a good distraction from the pain. 

But eventually, they’ve done all there is to be done, and the only thing left is to get up and get going. Junmyeon hoists Chanyeol’s backpack on his back once more with a determined look on his face, his eyes stern beneath furrowed brows. “Alright, up we come,” he says as he turns to Chanyeol, and it does take effort from them both to get Chanyeol up on his feet. His leg is much worse than it was yesterday, the pain from his hip making it difficult to put his weight on it. Even with the staff as his aid, walking is still difficult, and his right arm is still completely useless. 

He cannot even mask how utterly difficult it is, to drag himself through the forest and its uneven ground. The vegetation, even with as sparse as it is, makes dragging his feet a hindrance, makes him stumble and wobble. Breathing is still painful, and he can feel how the wound on his back pulls each time he moves too fast, too much. 

Junmyeon keeps glancing at him, walks right by his side with Chanyeol’s right arm over his shoulders although Chanyeol tries not to lean on him. He’s struggling too, underneath all of the weight of the backpack and the sled, but he says nothing of it. He’s on high alert though, eyes darting back and forth; the illusion of carefreeness has been broken once again, just like it was broken by Yixing’s call, and the sight of soldiers. Chanyeol thinks they’re like a deer being hunted down by a pack of wolves, pushed towards a dead end; although none of these wolves are working together, they’ve still closing in on them.

For the first time he doubts if they’ll actually make it out of here.

And Chanyeol is so out of it, with pain and with medicine. The tedious struggle of moving forward has his mind blank, his thoughts zoning out as all he can think about is one step forward, another step, another, another. Everything hurts and the world around him ceases to be, as he can only pay attention to how miserable and weak he feels, how much he craves to rest, how much he just wants to lay down and give up. Stop moving, close his eyes, escape the pain.

Just to be away from it all. 

Junmyeon keeps shaking him back to the present, back to him. “Are we still headed south?” he’ll ask, when they can see the sun. “Is this still the right direction? We’re not walking in circles, right?” 

Chanyeol’s travelled enough to be able to answer, even with the fog clouding his mind, but those questions only keep him alert for mere moments before his consciousness begins to slip into that haze again. Time loses meaning- he doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, how long they will be here for, and yet somehow that seems irrelevant too. 

“We can’t be far from a city, right? We must run into one soon, right?” Junmyeon’s voice beckons him back to the world of living. “With the main road to our left, we must come across a diverging road soon. Then we’ll just follow it, and we’ll find a city. Could be any moment now.” 

“Yes,” Chanyeol replies. “Yes, any moment now. We just have to keep moving forward…” 

“Exactly. Just a little while longer, Chanyeol.” 

But the sun finds its highest point, and then begins to come down on them, and there’s still no sign of people, no sign of life. It’s just the sparse, dying forest, all around them, and the silence of the mountains rising left and right. Chanyeol has a vague idea of the area they’re in, but he doesn’t remember it being this void of everything- and it makes his mind wander once more, makes the feeling of this being the underworld that much more vivid. Perhaps this is indeed hell, where all he’ll know is punishment, eternally- where time doesn’t begin or end, and he’ll just have to walk this arduous march forever. Maybe this forest is enchanted- maybe it has taken them hostage, and won’t let them find a way out. Maybe they really are walking in circles. 

“Chanyeol… Do you think we could go back to the road? It’d be easier for you to walk there.” Junmyeon’s voice is like a drink of fresh water, a hand guiding him back home. The illusion is broken, his confused mind can think straight again. He shakes his head, swallows to moisten his dry mouth.

“No, we can’t. What would they think of seeing me like this? Too many eyes. Too much attention. What if the army is there… We cannot run.” 

“But people are going to see you, when we enter a town,” Junmyeon points out. He, too, has started to stumble and drag his feet, weighed down by the backpack and Chanyeol leaning on him. “What are we going to do about that?” 

“That is something we can’t avoid. But we can avoid the road.” Junmyeon isn’t wrong- it’d be easier, but it’ll be all in vain if they get caught immediately. 

But each step forward is getting more and more difficult. Chanyeol is strong, but now, his body is giving up on him- it’s demanding rest, and he cannot push himself much more than this. Junmyeon keeps coaxing him, begs him to keep going, but each time Chanyeol falls down it takes longer and longer for him to get back up. He can barely see forward, only Junmyeon’s voice and touch guiding him.

And then he falls down, and cannot get back up. 

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon sinks down on his knees next to him, cups his face to hold his head up, to stare into his eyes. Chanyeol is clammy with sweat and shaking, and cannot manage even the slightest of reassuring smiles. He can taste blood and bile at the back of his throat, and his breaths come in wheezing and gurgling. He’s drugged up on all the medicine he dared to take yet it isn’t enough to take away his pain anymore, and the darkness setting in is making him see things, hear things, his mind dull and weakening which is the most dangerous of it all.

“Junmyeon…” Chanyeol wants to lay down and never move, just find peace in death if that is the only way to escape this torment, but he knows better than to say it. “Junmyeon… I don’t think I can go on any longer.” And he wonders if he should just order Junmyeon to go on without him, or to ask him set up camp, or perhaps something else, yet his clouded mind cannot make decisions any longer. 

He’s never been this weak, and it makes him scared. 

“We have to find help,” Junmyeon whispers, gripping Chanyeol’s face tighter in between his delicate hands. His palms have grown rough over their time on the road, worn down by the weather and the physical labor. They feel more familiar now, touched by life, real, capable, and Chanyeol wants to feel more of them. Let them touch him, hold him. Comfort him. 

“Chanyeol, I can’t take care of you here. We have to find someplace to stay. We can’t stay in the forest.” He’s holding back his panic, Chanyeol can tell, but the urgency is still there. “Chanyeol.” 

“I know.” But Chanyeol can’t hold back the sob that bubbles up to the surface at the mere thought of having to continue walking. “But I can’t… I can’t.” 

Junmyeon’s eyes wide slightly, before he wraps his arms around Chanyeol to hug him, swaying them slightly, his warm body and steady breaths reminding Chanyeol that this is not the underworld. This is not the end- they’re both alive, somehow, miraculously. “It’s alright,” Junmyeon whispers in his ear. “I’ll take you- I’ll take you out of there. Let’s put you in the sled- I’ll pull you. We must be close to a town already, we have to be. If I walk through the night, I’m sure we’ll find something. The lights will be easier to see in the dark.” 

“The sled… it’s broken, it can’t take my weight.” With the two hovers malfunctioning, adding more weight to it is impossible. It’ll drag on the ground, and Junmyeon will have to be the one to pull all that weight. It’ll be too much. “It won’t work…” 

“Yes it fucking will.” It isn’t like Junmyeon to curse, but he’s clearly made up his mind. He pulls away from the embrace, and throws the backpack on the ground. “I’ll throw away the water- we don’t need it, we’re going to a city anyway. I’ll throw that out, and put as much as possible into the backpack. It’ll be enough. It’ll work.” 

Chanyeol doesn’t have it in him to argue, and he just sits back to watch as Junmyeon works. And it’s so strange- he’s never seen Junmyeon as quite his equal, quite capable of handling much, yet here he is. Solving problems and executing his own plans, doing his everything to get Chanyeol to safety. He must be exhausted too, scared, lost- yet he’s hiding all of that, to keep pushing, to keep on moving. 

He would have expected Junmyeon to break and snap and crackle under this kind of pressure, yet here he is. He could so easily leave Chanyeol behind, too, but he still stays. Chanyeol might have saved his life at the waterfall, but now Junmyeon is saving his- if they can make it to shelter tonight, that is. 

They eat and drink what they can, to make the load slightly lighter, before Junmyeon pours away most of their water reserves. It hurts, because water is so precious, but it’s the only rational thing to do. Once Junmyeon has transferred as much stuff into the backpack as he can, he packs the sled as even as possible before covering it with the fabric again. Chanyeol lies down on his back on it, and Junmyeon gently ties him down with the ropes and hooks, to make sure he won’t slip off so easily. 

The sled barely rises off the ground, with all the extra weight, and Chanyeol’s feet dangle over the edge of it, dragging behind it. But it works- it works, even if only barely. Junmyeon stumbles as he heaves the now even heavier backpack on his back, but his expression shows nothing but steely determination. 

“I’ll walk through the night, or at least as long as I can,” he says, disappearing from Chanyeol’s line of sight as he starts walking, pulling the sled along. “But I’m sure we’ll find shelter before then. Don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol mumbles, but he isn’t sure if he quite believes it. 

But he’ll let Junmyeon try. 

He doesn’t know when he passes out. One moment he’s staring up at the tree tops and the toxic sky, his thoughts wandering from one random thought to another aimlessly, and the next thing he knows, he’s being lifted out of the sled by several pairs of hands. It startles him and he tries to fight back on reflex alone, but Junmyeon is there, grabbing his flailing arms and holding him steady. “Chanyeol, it’s alright. It’s alright. We’re safe now.” 

“Safe?” Chanyeol’s mouth has never been this dry, and he has trouble holding his eyes open. He can only make out that he’s carried into a building and then into an elevator, and then eventually through a long hallway into a small room. Junmyeon hushes him, stays by his side but doesn’t offer any explanation. He doesn’t recognize the men or the women helping him, and he has so many questions he’s overwhelmed with them. He’s laid down on the bed and he just watches as their belongings are brought in, as well as some other supplies he can’t quite make out, before they’re left alone.

Junmyeon is by his side in a flash, busily arranging the pillows and starting to strip Chanyeol who realizes that he’s actually shivering, both from cold and exhaustion. Junmyeon notices too, taking Chanyeol’s hands in between his for a moment, squeezing them gently, the artificial digits an awkward fit but for the first time, he doesn’t seem to care to be touching them. 

“I’ll get you warm in just a bit, I promise,” he murmurs quietly. He looks thin, worn down- he must be even more exhausted than Chanyeol is, and Chanyeol’s heart aches. It was so irresponsible of him to fall asleep and leave Junmyeon alone, to get them out of the forest all on his own. What if something had happened…

“It’s alright, you’ve already worked hard,” Chanyeol whispers, but Junmyeon simply shakes his head, lets go of his hands to carry on with his task. 

“I need to take care of you now, before we rest. They brought in warm water to clean you with, we can’t let that go to waste.” 

Chanyeol turns his head, even that amount of effort almost too much, to see the room properly. But it’s not a room- it’s a small studio apartment. He’s lying on the only bed in the room, and it’s pretty much the only real piece of furniture there is. There’s a small, foldable table on the floor for eating, a corner for cooking, some built-in closets, and a door to what he believes must lead into the bathroom. He can’t make out much more, eyes too tired to focus. 

“What is this place?” he asks as Junmyeon strips him down so that he’s down to only his underwear. Before he responds, Junmyeon turns to the buckets that were brought in, and takes out a wet cloth that he wrings dry before he begins to wash Chanyeol down quickly, apologizing as he goes over sore spots that make Chanyeol wince.

“I asked around but there are no hotels or hostels in this town. But I was taken to this lady- she owns this building with her husband, rents out the apartments. Quite a few of them are empty so she let us have this one, for now at least. I told them you’d fallen off a cliff and everyone felt sorry for you and wanted to help. She said we could worry about payment once you’re doing a bit better.” Junmyeon gently rolls him over on his stomach to carry on with his task. “I don’t know if this is good or bad, but I knew I needed to get you to shelter. Your lips were blue and your skin so grey, Chanyeol, I was sure you wouldn’t survive another night out there.” 

There are details to this story Chanyeol worries about, wants to ask more about, but the steady rhythm of Junmyeon’s hands moving over his skin is too distracting on his weary mind. Although parts of his brain are struggling to get the situation back under control, his body just won’t listen, and the clarity of thinking just isn’t there. The pain is coming back, the drugs having worn off, and that only makes it even more difficult. 

“It’s alright,” he murmurs into the pillow. He feels Junmyeon unwrap the bandages around his middle, and he lets his eyes close once more. “Just… lock the door. Don’t let… anyone in until I’m… awake.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Just rest now.” And he doesn’t have to tell Chanyeol twice- even despite having already rested for some hours on top of the sled, sleep claims him just as easily now even without the drugs to aid with that. He’s fast asleep long before Junmyeon finishes wrapping him up again, and he sleeps like a stone all the way until morning.

When he wakes up, the pain is still the same, intense, burning, demanding. It’ll take days, weeks before the ribs will get any better, and he has no idea what it’ll take for his hip. But somehow he still feels better- his mind is clearer, the world around him isn’t so clouded. Instead of feeling disconnected from reality, he knows where he is, who he is, stays in the present, and the relief that follows that realization is immense. 

Carefully, he pushes himself upright, looking around. Junmyeon is fast asleep on the ground next to the bed, curled up like a small shrimp in a bundle of sleeping bags and clothes. There’s a tiny bit of light filtering through from the window, although there’s not much to see in the apartment even in daylight; all items are sparse, and the light reveals the state of deterioration the place is in. The paint is old and chipped, dirty, and everything looks like it’s some decades old. But at least it’s warm, dry, and that’s all Chanyeol could ask for. 

He would get out of bed, at least for a drink of water, but he cannot do so without waking Junmyeon up. He feels awful for it- he can see on Junmyeon’s face, even when he’s asleep, just how truly exhausted he is. He’s been through so much, did something absolutely heroic by bringing Chanyeol here, to safety. It still seems unbelievable.

Gratefulness swells inside Chanyeol like never before. He’s never been in a situation such as this before; even in the army, they hardly ever faced real danger where they actually had to fear for their lives. There, the worst he went through was the amputation, and that at least happened in a controlled hospital environment. Afterwards, on his lonely travels, he’s dealt with everything alone, being his own hero no matter the circumstances. It’s the first time anyone has ever gone so far to save him- and that it was the small slave boy, who barely had the strength to lift up that backpack, let alone drag Chanyeol through the woods all the way here. 

As though aware that he’s being stared at, Junmyeon stirs. He curls up smaller and then stretches out his body with a quiet grunt, and then slowly blinks his eyes open with a smack of his lips. It’s such a precious sight, something that Chanyeol has witnessed many times over but somehow, different. Different on the first day of his second chance- second chance at life, really, never mind that it was his own choice to sacrifice himself in the first place.

Junmyeon startles a little when he notices Chanyeol staring, but then flashes him a slight smile. “You’re awake,” he murmurs, rubbing at his eyes. “That’s good. I’ll get up in just a moment, take care of you…”

“No, there’s no rush,” Chanyeol tells him gently, laying back down on the bed. He realizes now that he’s bare down to his hips, save for the bandages wrapped around him, and his pants are gone as well. Although it must have been Junmyeon who undressed him into this state, he still pulls the covers over himself better. He doesn’t wish to make Junmyeon uncomfortable. “Take your time. You had a worse day than me, yesterday.”

“Don’t be silly.” Junmyeon pushes himself up, but Chanyeol can tell how sore and stiff he is as he moves, puttering around. “You’re the patient here. All I did was walk for a while.” 

“That’s not true, and you know it.” But he doesn’t wish to argue, and so he just lets Junmyeon do as he wishes. It’s not until Junmyeon has finished taking care of him, checking on his injuries and preparing food and drink, that he finally can get some answers from him. 

“What happened? I passed out pretty soon after I laid down on the sled,” he confesses, taking small bites out of a nutrition bar. His stomach doesn’t greet the food so enthusiastically, and the last thing he wants to do is throw up precious food. “How did you get us here?” 

Junmyeon shrugs. He’s seated in lotus position on the bed, at Chanyeol’s feet. “I just kept walking,” he says, plain and simple. “I don’t remember when I realized you weren’t awake any longer. I think I kept talking to you, just to try and keep you present with me, but eventually I realized you weren’t answering. So I just kept walking, until I came across a road. Not the main road, but a diverging one. I followed it here.” 

“How long? How long did that take you, to get us here?” Chanyeol wants to know, wants to understand exactly what Junmyeon went through last night. To fully appreciate the true meaning of it.

Junmyeon looks down, as though embarrassed. “I don’t know… three, four maybe? I don’t know, I’m bad at telling time like that.” 

“Three hours of dragging my weight through that terrain, with all of our luggage.” With the hover sled broken as it is, it doesn’t really make the load as light as it usually would; typically it’s a breeze to pull along, but with the broken hovers and Chanyeol’s body weight added to the usual load, Junmyeon had to work extra hard to make it move. In the forest, it would have gotten caught on things, as well as Chanyeol’s feet dragging behind him over the edge of it. It’s a miracle that the hover sled even stayed in the air with Chanyeol on top of it.

“When I found the road, it was easier. I knew I was getting closer, so I was hopeful and encouraged.” Junmyeon pats his calf gently. “It wasn’t so awful.”

“Junmyeon… You saved me.” Chanyeol doesn’t want to lean forward to touch, and so instead, he rubs his foot up and down Junmyeon’s back. It’s perhaps an odd gesture, but he can’t do much more than this right now. “You did something not many could do, even men bigger and stronger than you. If you hadn’t brought me out of that forest, I would have died there.”

Junmyeon shakes his head quickly. “You got hurt because you saved me. We would have both died if you hadn’t done what you did- or I would have gotten injured, too, if you hadn’t taken the fall for me. I was just… giving back what you had just given me.” He’s getting emotional, Chanyeol can tell, and somehow, he also feels choked up. He isn’t used to conversations like this.

Isn’t used to feeling so raw, so bare. So visible. 

“Well… I don’t keep tally.” He fiddles idly with the mechanisms on his right hand, turning the disks on the wrist. At least those still work. “It’s not… It’s not about who’s done what. You still did something heroic. I don’t know where or how you found the strength to do it, but I am grateful. I’m so grateful. I wouldn’t have gotten out of that forest without you.”   
Junmyeon places a tentative hand on Chanyeol’s thigh, squeezes there gently. “It’s… It was nothing,” he whispers, wipes his nose quickly with his free hand. “You said you wouldn’t let me die out here… and I don’t want you to die either. I don’t want to lose you, Chanyeol. I can’t- I can’t imagine moving on without you. I needed you to live… I needed you to stay with me.”

There’s a meaning to those words, something that Junmyeon already mentioned before- when he said he’s scared to think of the future without Chanyeol by his side. And Chanyeol knows he shouldn’t let such thoughts and sentiments live on, shouldn’t let them take hold in either of them, yet he finds himself unable to say it. Doesn’t know how to say no to the man curled up in between his feet, holding onto him like he’s something dear. Crying at the thought of losing him. 

He swallows thickly, takes in a deep breath. He wishes he was a man of more words, and perhaps once upon a time, he was that way- before the inherent cruelty and harshness of his life molded it out of him. Yet the last thing he wants to do is hurt Junmyeon, be it with his silence or his words. 

It’s a new feeling, a new budding emotion, but he decides he’ll squash it down later. Later, when Junmyeon isn’t there, vulnerable, aching. 

“I’m with you now,” he murmurs. “We’re here, and we’re safe. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Junmyeon wipes at his eyes. “I don’t believe in promises,” he says, no emotion behind it either. He means it. “But Chanyeol… You’re the first person to ever treat me as their equal. To make me feel like… like I have value. Not as a commodity, but as a human being. You have no idea… you have no idea what it means. You’re not just my ticket out of my old life. I don’t- I didn’t save you just to make sure you take me to Busan. I don’t want you to think-”

“I didn’t think that,” Chanyeol interrupts him. “I know what you meant. I know.”

“Good.” Junmyeon nods his head, brushes his hair back, takes a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. “Christ… You know, in old movies, from the Old Time, people used to smoke these cigarettes to feel better. These things rolled in paper that they would light on fire and inhale the smoke… It always seemed so weird to me, but now I kind of hope I could do that. If it’d make me feel better.” He flashes Chanyeol a smile- it wavers at the corners, but Chanyeol understands what it says.

It’s time to move on to lighter subjects. 

“Well, I’m quite sure that stuff has been forbidden for a century or two,” he says with a quiet laugh. “It gives you cancer, you see. Back in the day people didn’t know how to cure it though- and now people can’t afford to cure it, so I guess that’s the same.”

“Way to ruin my romantic ideas,” Junmyeon mutters, rolling his eyes as he slides off the bed. “I know those things are dangerous, but you know. It seems to help those people, in the movies. Let me dream, sometimes.” 

“Alright, I’ll keep my realism to myself next time,” Chanyeol replies in kind. “I’m sorry I’m so practical.” 

The next smile Junmyeon gives him is less forced, less practiced. “Good. Because I enjoy escaping the reality from time to time,” he says. “It’s fun, for as long as you don’t allow yourself to feel sad when you realize you can’t have any of those things no matter how much you want them, how well you can imagine them.”

“Maybe I’ll try it,” Chanyeol replies simply. He thinks he knows what Junmyeon is talking about- he, too, has his own private hopes and wishes, no matter how much he tries to shun them away as unreasonable and impossible to fulfill.

Somehow it feels like another one is forming- if it hasn’t already.

*****

Reality keeps them hostage, however. The severity of the situation is not lost on either of them- they’re stuck here until Chanyeol recovers enough to get back on the road. They consider asking for a doctor but then decide against it, as Chanyeol doesn’t want anyone taking a good look at his biomechanical arm. He can’t risk it.

Letting Junmyeon handle everything while he’s bedbound isn’t easy for him, however. Sending Junmyeon out to go get more supplies, food, medicine, it’s nerve-wracking. One, because Chanyeol doesn’t quite trust his skills and knowledge- he could get scammed, he could get lost, he could screw up. It’d be so easy. Two, he’s worried because Junmyeon could get hurt. The world out there is evil, not to be trusted, and Junmyeon is so unfit to defend himself. 

He drills as much information into Junmyeon as he can before letting him go out, and the entire time his heart is pounding as he counts seconds and minutes, impatient for his return. And every moment that passes has him more anxious, imagining more scenarios of what could have gone wrong, what might have happened. He should have gotten a second phone to give to Junmyeon, for a situation such as this- but he never thought they’d have to be separated from one another. 

He’s only partially successful in convincing himself that he’s only this worried because Junmyeon getting caught could also land him into trouble, not for any personal feelings that he might have for the slave.

Junmyeon returns two hours later, with a broad grin on his face. “I got so much stuff,” he exclaims, hurrying into the room and placing his backpack down. “Food, medicine, even some other things. I did good, didn’t I?”

His eyes are sparkling. Chanyeol swallows down the grumpy response he’s conditioned to give, only because such enthusiasm over trivial things like successful food hauls seems childish to his practical mind, and smiles back at him instead. 

“What did you get?” he asks instead. He would get up, but he knows Junmyeon would only be upset to see him exerting himself. “Did you spend all of the money I gave you?”   
“Pretty much.” Junmyeon looks a bit sheepish before he smiles again. “But I spent it wisely, trust me! Let me show you.” 

The medicine and bandages he got all seem decent, and it’ll tide Chanyeol over for the next few days. Next, Junmyeon proudly shows him the two pairs of socks he got, one for him and one for Chanyeol. “Mine are completely ruined at the heel, and I figured you’d like these too,” he says, gently setting them to the side like they’re somehow precious. “The lady selling them gave me a discount, too.”

“I sent you out there to buy as food, not clothes,” Chanyeol scolds him, but there’s no heat to his words. He can’t be upset when Junmyeon is so genuinely pleased with his find. “What else did you get?”

“You’re going to like this.” Junmyeon’s smile only continues to grow broader. He reaches into the rucksack and pulls out a hefty bag, holding it out for Chanyeol to see with great pride. “I found rice in the market! It was a little expensive, but it’ll be so nice. You said you rarely get to eat anything that’s real, so I figured this would be a welcome change for a bit, don’t you think?” 

It’s such a waste. They could have bought more rations with that money, and it would have lasted them longer than the rice will. But Junmyeon is right. It’ll be so nice to get to eat something real for once, food how it was meant to be, and Chanyeol fully understands why Junmyeon was tempted to buy it. Junmyeon probably misses real food even more than he does. 

He truly has a soft spot for him now.

“If you know how to cook it,” he simply says, and Junmyeon eagerly nods. “I know, I know! I saw the cooks do it many times. And look, I even got something else!” 

Out of the bag emerges a small jar of something red and white, and Chanyeol can’t quite make out what it is. Junmyeon holds it in his palms like it’s a gift from the gods, almost reverently. “It’s pickled radish,” he almost whispers. “It’s radish kimchi, Chanyeol- like they used to make in the Old World. Isn’t it delightful? It’ll be so nice with the rice, won’t it?”

For a moment, Chanyeol is speechless. He can only stare at that little jar, and wonder- has he eaten a vegetable such as this since he left the village that he grew up in, where his mother would sometimes try and cultivate a small piece of land to grow better food for her son. It has certainly been years. “I don’t even know if I remember what radish tastes like,” he admits. “Junmyeon, you’re a little miracle maker.”

Junmyeon has tears in his eyes as he laughs, carefree and overjoyed. “No, you’ve given me the biggest miracle of all, and that is freedom,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “When you told me that all you eat is rations, the packaged stuff- I was horrified, about the misery and poverty you live in. But now, rejoicing over something as simple as this, I’ve fully realized how precious everything is. Every meal here has tasted better than anything I was served in my master’s house, because I eat it as a free man, and just the thought of rice and kimchi- I’m so happy I’m crying. Isn’t that the truest blessing, to be able to appreciate something like this? Something so small to someone who has everything, but who doesn’t know happiness, but so huge to us who have nothing.”

“Come here,” Chanyeol murmurs before he can think twice of it and keep his silence. He gestures for Junmyeon to come to him, and Junmyeon obeys, wiping at his eyes, the precious kimchi placed gently on the floor. He approaches Chanyeol hesitantly but comes into his arms easy, hugging him back although mindful of Chanyeol’s injuries.

Chanyeol doesn’t even know why he’s so moved by this, but Junmyeon’s genuine feelings, how he’s learning and growing like a baby bird jumping from the nest for the first time, and the beauty in how Junmyeon has transformed from a miserable boy to this smiling, confident man- how could he not have grown attached? Even if he thought that the ignorant slave was a burden at first, he doesn’t think so now.

“You’ve opened my eyes, too,” he whispers to him, gently stroking Junmyeon’s hair. “You’ve allowed me to see things I had forgotten. Reminded me to be grateful for what I have- I’m not the only one who’s suffering, and I have no reason to be so bitter for my own difficulties. Just because someone else’s pain is different doesn’t mean it isn’t equally as real.” 

Junmyeon shakes his head slightly. “No, Chanyeol,” he whispers, pressing closer still. “You’ve gone through things that no one should have to live through- even if I have gone through some difficult things, I cannot imagine losing a part of my body and having to live with that for the rest of my life. You’re so courageous. You keep pushing on, Chanyeol, and I admire you for it. I’ve never known anyone like you…”

“Anyone like me?” Chanyeol turns his head, and his nose presses into Junmyeon’s cheek. “What does that mean?”

He can hear Junmyeon swallow, before he lifts up his head, their noses almost touching with how close they are. “I don’t know,” Junmyeon replies with, his hand delicately cupping Chanyeol’s face. “It’s just… I just know it, in my heart of hearts. I used to despise all men… used to think they were all like my master and his friends. They hurt me, Chanyeol, and treated me as nothing more than an animal. A doll. I didn’t think I could ever like a man, or look at a man like that- but you’ve changed my mind.”

Chanyeol doesn’t have to ask him to understand what he means, and that, that makes his heart rate spike up, makes anxious butterflies flutter in his stomach. He didn’t know that he was even capable of feeling that anymore- he remembers the feelings but cannot remember the last time he experienced it. And with Junmyeon’s small body in his arms, both of them so close to each other, close enough to do anything- his mind is going on overdrive, and he finds that he wants, he wants it so badly, even if he knows without saying that he isn’t allowed. He has no right- there is no point. Even if he wants to, he cannot. He shouldn’t. 

A second, and another. They stay just like that, breaths mingling, so close- it’d be so easy to close the gap between them and simply give in to temptation. Chanyeol can feel how Junmyeon is shivering, shaking almost, but he doesn’t know what it means. Excitement, fear, anxiety? He can’t say, and he doesn’t want to make the wrong call. 

Junmyeon swallows thickly, and then leans in, eyelashes fluttering against Chanyeol’s cheek as he presses the lightest kiss on the corner of Chanyeol’s mouth. And then he’s gone in a flash, getting up from the bed, hands nervously patting down his hair and his clothes before he picks up the food to put it away. Chanyeol can only play along- a game of pretend where none of that happened, where it meant nothing even if it did. 

His heart is still racing, but he chooses to ignore that. 

He can’t let it mean anything. 

But that night, as Chanyeol persuades Junmyeon to join him on the bed, it’s almost as if there’s now an electric current sparking everywhere that their bodies are touching. The bed is narrow, meant for only one person really, and so they have to stay close to each other- yet Chanyeol couldn’t let Junmyeon spend another night on the floor. Junmyeon tried to argue against it of course, but gave in after a while; Chanyeol tries not to guess why it was so easy to win him over. But the pull, the chemistry, it’s almost impossible to ignore that it’s there, no matter how badly Chanyeol wishes he could just turn a blind eye.

It was easier not to know that it existed, but he knows that this shouldn’t be a surprise. He knew the signs were there.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself even as he tentatively wraps his arm around Junmyeon’s waist. It’s meaningless. They only have so little time left together- nothing means anything. It’s probably just lust. It’s been a long time for him, and Junmyeon is attractive. Junmyeon is available- as Chanyeol is available to Junmyeon, who’s probably looking for an anchor, someone to attach to.

They’re two people stuck in their own storms, and they cannot hold onto each other for comfort and safety for much longer.

But Chanyeol finds that deep down, he wishes they could.

*****

The days are long. They have nothing to do, except sit and wait. There’s nothing in the room- only the dirty window that gives them a view into the street below and the apartment building across from the one they’re in. It has no panels on it, just an old-fashioned glass pane that hides nothing of the world outside. Sometimes children will play on the street, but mostly it’s just people passing by, hurrying along with their backs hunched down and heads hanging low. Even the weather turns miserable, as acid rain pours heavily down, flooding the streets and even tainting the pipes, making the water in the flat unusable.

They have food, they have medicine, but the boredom is the worst of it. The building impatience, to keep moving, to get to their destination- it makes Chanyeol antsy, to be a sitting duck like this to anyone who might be looking for them still. But his body is making slow progress with healing. He aches and he hurts, and even standing up to use the bathroom is a struggle. No matter how badly he wants to get back on the road, he can’t. 

After a couple of days, he’s at least well enough to start fixing his arm. It’s been completely useless, and it tests Chanyeol’s patience more than anything. But it isn’t so easily done, when the supplies and equipment he has are so limited.

Junmyeon sits next to him, his legs crossed, leaning his chin on his palm as he watches Chanyeol fiddle with his arm, working his way up from the wrist to the shoulder, testing the mechanisms and how they work. “There are more broken parts than bits that work,” Chanyeol murmurs, shaking his head. “Fixing it might take longer than letting my ribs heal.” 

It really doesn’t look too good, but Chanyeol has to make it function somehow. 

“Can I do anything?” Junmyeon asks while Chanyeol picks tools from the small kit that he keeps with him for emergencies like this. “Just tell me and I’ll do what I can.” 

Chanyeol shakes his head, runs his fingertips along the seam where the metal attaches to his skin at his shoulder just to make sure there are no sore spots there, that at least his human body is alright even if his robotic arm isn’t. “There’s not much you can do, really,” he says honestly. “I’ll have to take it apart though… I’ll try to fix the shoulder first and work my way down. If I start with the wrist, I won’t know if it works until I’ve gotten all the way up to the shoulder.” 

“You understand how it works? It looks so complicated.” Junmyeon leans forward as Chanyeol slowly unscrews his whole arm off, revealing the ball joint at the shoulder and the wirings that disappear behind a sheet of metal covering how the wires are joined together with his nerves, allowing the arm to do as his brain tells it to. He leaves his arm on the bed, the limb looking so crude and jarring just placed there so haphazardly on the sheets, as though it isn’t a permanent part of his body- Junmyeon is staring at it too, chewing his bottom lip like he doesn’t quite know what to say or think of it. 

“Well, at first no one told me anything,” Chanyeol admits. He can’t quite see the entire shoulder, so he has to feel his way around it, check for broken parts or anything out of place with just his fingertips. “We had technicians who took care of all of that, in the army. I guess they didn’t think we needed to know much. But living with something like this, you have to learn at least the basics. You can’t rely on someone else being there to do this for you.” 

Junmyeon nods thoughtfully. “I can understand that,” he says. He reaches out and runs his fingertips over Chanyeol’s arm, his hand visibly shaky. He glances at Chanyeol as though to ask if he has his permission to do this, to which Chanyeol just nods silently. He has nothing against it- as odd as it is. He blames all those forbidden desires for allowing Junmyeon such freedoms. 

“Does it… does it cause you pain?” Junmyeon carefully asks after a moment of silence. “I mean- you sometimes look like it hurts you. Does it?”  
It’s a strange question, one that no one has ever bothered to ask him before. Chanyeol finds himself stumped for an answer, his brows furrowing as he mulls it over.

“Well… I guess.” He shrugs slightly, before turning his head, pretending to take a closer look at something on his shoulder. “Sometimes it almost feels like my real arm is there, and it aches- but it’s stupid, because I haven’t had my real arm for years. It’s a ghost- it happens sometimes, I hear. Ghost limbs, I mean. But it usually goes away pretty quickly.”

“That sounds awful.” Junmyeon sounds so sincere that it makes Chanyeol smile, even if there’s nothing amusing about this at all. But he can’t help the soft expression, even if he does try to hide it. “Do you… are you angry? That they did this to you?”

Chanyeol sighs. “I am, sometimes,” he admits. He hates being this honest, but there’s no use in lying to Junmyeon. He’ll be gone soon anyway. He won’t hold this over Chanyeol’s head. “It’s… It was a big sacrifice to make, and I was never given any choice. They said it was what I needed to do, to become an elite soldier. To make it big there. To show my loyalty. I guess they thought that I wouldn’t have any future anywhere outside of the military like this, mutilated and all. I wouldn’t have chosen this for myself, you know.”

“No, of course not.” The corners of Junmyeon’s mouth turn downwards. “I wish… I wish there was something to be done about it.”

Wishful thinking. Chanyeol hates it- but he wants to indulge, even if just for this moment right here. “Well… with the money you paid me for this gig, I could maybe buy myself a regular model. Get rid of this military grade one. It’s all weapons and performance and strength- it doesn’t even look human. No hand, no proper fingers, no nothing.” He sighs softly. “I could buy an arm that actually looks like a real arm, you know. With five fingers and soft, warm skin. No wires, no blades, no nothing. Just an arm, like any other. They make them real good these days, you know- I’ve heard you can even have a sense of feeling with those.” 

Junmyeon shuffles closer to him on the bed, and places his hand on the nape of his neck. For a moment they just stare at each other, just taking in each other and the emotions swimming in their eyes. It’s a loaded moment that only ends when Junmyeon leans forward to press the gentlest kiss on Chanyeol’s cheek, his lips tender against his skin. “I really, really hope you get that,” he whispers. “You deserve it. It won’t be the same… but it’ll be better. I want that for you.” 

“Yeah, well… let’s hope.” Chanyeol doesn’t know what else to say, and when Junmyeon pulls away, he resumes his task at hand, willing himself to believe that nothing happened at all.

The days bleed into each other like so. It’s just a waiting game- of Chanyeol healing, of Chanyeol fixing his arm. The progress is slow and the hours are long, each and every one of them passing by like dragging through molasses. But somehow, Chanyeol is still grateful, beneath all of his impatience and anxiety- time seems to almost have stopped, just for them, and it allows for discussions, small talk, light conversations. Shared laughs and stories told, about their lives before this moment.

He gets to truly know Junmyeon, which is something he never thought he’d want- but now that the opportunity has presented itself, he can’t say no. Cannot turn it down, even if he knows that this isn’t to last. 

It makes being locked up like this more bearable, gives him a distraction, although in a way Chanyeol finds himself enjoying this lull moment. He’s never had the chance to just do nothing, given himself the permission to just be for a while. 

“I’ve always just kept moving,” he admits one night to Junmyeon after they’ve already turned the lights off. They lie side by side on the narrow bed, the warmth of Junmyeon’s body like a promise of a better tomorrow. “Even if I’ve stayed still for a while, it’s never been meant to last. I’ve never allowed myself to get comfortable…”

“This isn’t meant to last either.” Junmyeon almost sounds upset, and he turns away from Chanyeol, curling up on his side. “We have to get back on the road soon. Whenever you’re healthy again.”

If Chanyeol was better with emotions, better with verbalizing emotions, he’d ask- ask Junmyeon sounds angry when he says that, even if it’s the truth. But his forbidden emotions, they understand; because deep down, he’s also angry. Time may have stopped for a while, but it isn’t meant to last. It’s unfair.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. To chase away the silence before it gets too sticky to get rid of, he changes the subject. “About what you said earlier about all of the trips you went on… Can you tell me more? I’m just curious. I’ve never been out of the country.”

Junmyeon has truly started to open up to him, about his past experiences. Before, he only shared the smallest details of his life as a slave- practical, meaningless aspects mostly, of how and why he knew so little about how ordinary people live. Some funny instances that happened, or movies he saw. Documentaries on the Old World- those fascinated Chanyeol too, so Junmyeon used to tell him what he could remember. But never anything so personal, not until now.

Chanyeol had no idea it would feel so nice to have won someone’s trust. 

Junmyeon shrugs, but turns his head and upper body so that he isn’t completely facing away anymore. “Well, I already told you about China,” he replies. “It’s quite uneventful. Nothing happens because everyone is so strictly monitored and controlled, you know. You can’t slip up. It made me almost feel better about my position, in comparison. Even as a slave, I had more freedom than some of those people.”

“So what about the US? You said you went there too.” Chanyeol finds it so fascinating. He knows that back in the Old World, people used to travel all over the globe. It was a thing everyone did, and he hears that there are still places left where people can come and go freely still. But here, it’s so expensive only the rich can afford to do it, and getting the required paperwork done is difficult. Especially for someone like him who has been using fake identities for years now. 

“Oh, yes. We took the tube there- it’s as close to teleportation as we’ll ever get, they said. A train that travels over a thousand kilometers an hour, yet you feel like you’re not even moving at all. It was strange. Have you seen the tube?” Junmyeon glances at him, and Chanyeol nods in response.

“I have. It’s a strange looking thing, high up above the ground like that. Always wondered where it could take me.” Even if he knows he’ll never step a foot inside of it. 

“It’s much nicer than a boat. No pirates to worry about, at least.” Junmyeon chuckles dryly. “It’s really different over there, you know. They have vehicles there. Everyone has one. They all hover, too. And their cities, they’re so massive. But the weather’s really crazy. They get huge sandstorms and floods, and hurricanes and blizzards. To me it seemed like they spend most of their time fixing whatever mother nature has destroyed.” 

Chanyeol tries to imagine that, picture it in his head as well as he can. “Sounds tough,” he replies. “Are the people as poor as us? What do they eat?”

Junmyeon’s fingers find his under the blankets, give them a gentle squeeze. “If the people were poor, I never met them,” he says quietly. “Must have been because of my master… But they ate all sorts of weird things. Insects and stuff. Meat that isn’t meat- meat grown in laboratories. Wild, isn’t it?” 

“That is wild.” It sounds like a fantasy. “What was the strangest thing there?” 

Junmyeon is silent for a while as he thinks. “They don’t have slaves,” he whispers after a long, pregnant pause. “Everyone is free… It’s illegal there, I think. My master had to pretend I was his son, or his boyfriend. It felt so bizarre, being treated like I was something. Someone important. And people were always smiling so much, always so happy. So considerate. It was… it was strange.”

“Because no one has treated you like that before?” Chanyeol squeezes his fingers tighter, rubs his thumb over his knuckles gently. 

“Yeah.” Junmyeon’s voice is so small, and he finally rolls over completely, curls up against Chanyeol’s side like he’s looking for safety. “The servants in my master’s house, they weren’t so cruel to me… but no one ever spoke to me like I was a real person. Free. I couldn’t imagine what it would even be like, not until those people- but maybe they would have treated me differently as well, if they had known the truth. That I wasn’t really like them. Their equal. Worth something. Perhaps it was only the lie… but I liked it. I cherished it. But it also made me yearn more of it, and in a way, it made it harder to just resign myself to being treated the way that I was. Made me dream of a different reality.”

Chanyeol wraps his arm around Junmyeon’s shoulders, lets him curl up closer. He finds that he doesn’t dislike it- he’s gotten used to the touch, used to having Junmyeon so near, and in a way, it has been comforting. Grounding. To feel someone next to him. He’s discovered that he’s denied himself many basic human needs, social interaction and physical proximity included. 

He already worries about how difficult it’ll be to let that go again.

“We aren’t so different, you and I,” he says thoughtfully. “I mean… I thought so, when we first met. I thought we had nothing in common, really. But we’ve both been so… alone.” Alone and sad, is what he really means, but he guesses that it’s implied whether he says it or not. “Because we didn’t belong. I didn’t belong in the army and I don’t belong in this society, and you didn’t belong in your position as a slave, or in the world you were living in.”

Chanyeol can feel how Junmyeon heaves a sigh. “I guess so,” he murmurs against Chanyeol’s shoulder. “But it made you strong, and made me weak. Even if we’ve been both equally lonely.”

“You’re learning to be strong now,” Chanyeol counters. “You grow stronger every day. You rescued me, too. That’s not something a weak person does. The only difference between us is that the happiest part of my life has been long since over, while yours is only beginning.”

That makes Junmyeon sit up abruptly, so he can stare down at Chanyeol even though the darkness makes it hard to see much of anything. “Don’t say that,” he whispers, gently combing back Chanyeol’s hair. He’s gotten so much bolder with how he touches- he doesn’t shy away from it like he used to, for as long as Chanyeol lets him do it in his own terms. “Don’t say that, Chanyeol. It’s not true. You can still be happy- it’s not too late. Why would it be too late?”

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol has to admit. “It just… It just feels like it. This is all I’ll ever have, this nomad life, until one day I get caught and my time is up. I don’t… I’ve made peace with this, Junmyeon. I’ve settled for what I have. Dreaming of bigger things only ever leaves me disappointed. This isn’t so bad.”

Junmyeon shakes his head in response. “Chanyeol, no,” he insists, “no. That’s not true. I used to think that- I used to believe that, as well. I couldn’t even imagine a different life, a different future myself, but here I am. I’m free, because you saved me. Because you were brave enough to take me out of there, and gift me the promise of a better tomorrow. Even if I had to wait years for my savior, and had to put everything on the line… it still came true.”

His voice sounds so urgent, like he’s desperate to make Chanyeol believe him. And deep down, a hidden hope is stirred within Chanyeol’s heart- but he tries to stomp it back down, together with all of his other forbidden desires and wishes. No. He cannot hope. He cannot let himself believe. This is all he has, and will ever have.

“There’s no saving someone who’s just stuck in the very basic conditions of human life,” he murmurs back. “I’m not sentenced to this by anything else but my own nature, and the circumstances that lead me here. I’m not in a cage, Junmyeon. I don’t need rescuing. This is just the cards that I’ve been dealt, and I can’t pick and choose. This is just all that I have.”

Junmyeon’s thumb brushes beneath his eye and over the apple of his cheek, back and forth. “You’re stuck because you’re scared of breaking out,” Junmyeon whispers. “You’re right, you don’t need rescuing. But that doesn’t mean that a new beginning isn’t possible- it just means that you have to be the one who makes it happen. You’re so resourceful and knowledgeable, you could do anything you wanted. But you’ve chosen to stay in your shell, with what you know. Isn’t that right? Are you scared, Chanyeol? Scared of change?”  
Ever since they met, Junmyeon has had this uncanny ability to make sharp observations about Chanyeol, and to this day, it hasn’t ceased to amaze him as much as it unnerves him. 

“Not scared of change, no,” he replies, sighing. “But scared of disappointment, yes. I don’t want to wish and hope for something only to be let down again- I’ve been through that too many times. It’s foolish, and I’m better off without it.”

The rest, he doesn’t even want to comment on. Junmyeon hit the nail on the head, which is why it hurts. There’s no point in arguing any of that, but he also isn’t going to acknowledge it out loud. Junmyeon doesn’t need to know just how right he is.

“I suppose I understand.” Junmyeon lies down again, wiggles around a little to get comfortable. “But it’s just so… sad, that you’ve given up on yourself, and your right to be happy. You don’t have to be doomed to live like this, if only you let yourself have what you want.”

“Let’s get you what you want first, and I’ll worry about me later.” But he already knows that going back to how things used to be might not be so easy- not easy at all.

Maybe Junmyeon indeed is braver than him, for allowing himself the luxury to dream, and go after his dreams. Perhaps it’s him who’s a coward. His life may be full of adventure and risks, but they’re all things he’s faced hundreds of times before. Calculated, controlled risks. He’s much more scared of having his hopes crushed- and Junmyeon is right. That is why he’s stuck.


	5. Chapter 5

Junmyeon is out one day, to get them more supplies as they’ve started to prepare for hitting the road soon again, when someone knocks on the door. They’ve been left alone for the most part; Junmyeon has run into the owners of the apartment building outside, but Chanyeol has heard very little of them. Clearly, they’ve understood not to meddle too much, if they want their tenants to stay put. Although it’s in Chanyeol’s nature to be suspicious of everyone, he’s had no complaints. Junmyeon picked the place well, and it’s done its job as a safe haven for them to recover and reorient themselves.

But now, someone is knocking on the door. 

Chanyeol is shirtless, as he’s been working on his arm again. It’s mostly functional, and he’s really just finetuning the systems now; it’s a bit slower and stiffer than it was prior, but he can live with it. He’d like to get it to its original functionality, but his hopes are low. But he cannot open the door like this- for several reasons. 

“Coming,” he yells, and hurries to grab his shirt from where he disregarded it. He only has patience to pull it on half way though, before he marches to the door and pulls it open.  
He’s met with the owner of the building. He’s a short man, potbellied and balding, but his eyes are sharp and quick as he looks Chanyeol up and down, before he zeroes in on his arm poking out of the sleeve. Chanyeol yanks it down and clears his throat, to make the man snap back into attention.

“So, uh, I’ve been meaning to ask you how long you’re thinking of staying for,” the man says. He speaks a southern accent, its tilts and notes different to what Chanyeol is used to hearing but also an obvious sign that Busan isn’t too far away. “I need to know, as you understand. Someone might come in asking for a room or something.” 

Chanyeol nods slowly. He knows that’s a flimsy excuse if he ever heard one- majority of the rooms are empty, and what Chanyeol has been able to guess by what he’s seen from their window, most tenants don’t stay very long. Every time he gets familiar with a face, they vanish and never come back. Unlike the slums of Lost Seoul, this town certainly has no issue with overpopulation. 

“A few more days, I think,” he replies, letting his dialect take a more southern twist as well. Not that it’s much of a coverup- he’s fairly certain that Junmyeon has spoken in Seoul dialect this entire time. “A week, at most. We’ve paid you for that already, so you’ve got your money.” 

“Yes, yes of course.” The man is so obviously trying to see past Chanyeol into the room, but he’s too short to do so. Chanyeol decidedly doesn’t like the way he’s looking at him, either- like he’s trying to see something but isn’t sure what he’s looking for exactly. “So, you’ve recovered from your accident? Where are you headed? Busan perimeter, yes?”

Chanyeol has half a mind to snap at him and tell him to fuck off because it’s none of his business, but he doesn’t want to start any trouble now. “No, further down south. I have family there,” he replies. It’s an easy lie, one he’s told many times. “We’re going to spend some time there. They have some work to do. Plastic collecting.” The seas have very little fish left and fishing is a strictly controlled, but everyone is free to harvest the plastic trash floating in the waters. It doesn’t pay much, but the pennies you make out of recycling it are still better than nothing.

The man nods, again looking Chanyeol up and down. “Plastic collecting? That’s tough work, you know. The sea is rough. How do you manage that, with only one good arm? And what about the boy, he doesn’t seem suited for that.” 

He makes a conscious effort to shrug as nonchalantly as he can. “He’ll get stronger, working on the boat. And trust me, I manage just fine. I’ve been doing it since I was a little boy.”

“Have you, now?” The man is squinting at him, and Chanyeol is starting to feel a little uneasy. He takes a step back and grabs the door, starting to close it to indicate that he’s done with this conversation. But the man doesn’t budge. 

“Yes, I have. Every now and then, my mom would send me there. When we’d be low on food, and such.” It’s a perfectly normal story, but it does cross Chanyeol’s mind now that he isn’t so sure what Junmyeon might have told these people. He should have asked. “So yes, we’ll be out of your hair soon. We’ll let you know when we’ve decided on the exact day. Have a nice day.”

“Alright,” the man replies, and Chanyeol doesn’t wait for anything else before slamming the door shut in his face. He doesn’t move until he hears the man leave, yet the unease that the conversation brought onto him doesn’t disappear. Whatever the man was after, Chanyeol doesn’t know- but it’s obvious now that they really do need to leave, as soon as they can. People are getting to nosy about their business, and that’s never a good sign.

When Junmyeon returns an hour later, Chanyeol asks him what he’s told the owners about their future plans.

“Oh, well, I just said we’re going to Busan perimeter,” Junmyeon replies with a slight shrug. “I didn’t tell them any specifics- they didn’t ask. Why?”

Chanyeol wants to punch something, but he tries his best to control his emotions. This isn’t Junmyeon’s fault. He should have paid more attention, been more alert- he should have thought of a story to tell these people. He didn’t want to give their real destination to anyone because he’d rather no one knows where they’re headed, but of course Junmyeon didn’t think to lie about it. 

“Because the guy stopped by today, and asked me where we’re going, and I lied and told we’re headed to this remote town to work on a relative’s boat collecting plastic out of the sea,” he exclaims, rubbing the heels of his palms over his eyes until he sees stars. “We have to leave tonight, we just have to. I don’t know what the guy was doing here, but he clearly was suspicious of us, and now he knows one of us lied to him. We can’t stay, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon looks uncertain, but he nods his head despite his concern. “We’re not ready, though,” he says quietly, gesturing at the hover sled and the backpack that have been left mostly untouched for some time now. “We don’t have the supplies you wanted, and you’re not fully healed either. The only thing we can do is fill up our water storage.” 

“That’ll have to be enough.” Chanyeol shakes his head. “I’m not happy about this either, but listen- I have a bad feeling about this. We have to leave, tonight. After the sun’s gone down, we leave. It’ll be alright. We’ll stock up on everything in the next town, it’s no big deal.”

Junmyeon steps up to him, and brushes his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair, his lower lip once more caught in between his teeth. “What about you?” he asks. “You’re not fully healed yet.”

Chanyeol shrugs as casually as he can. He doesn’t feel fully confident in this emergency plan, but he doesn’t want to freak out Junmyeon any more than necessary. “It’ll be fine,” he insists. “My ribs are mostly fine, it doesn’t hurt to breathe anymore, and the wound on my back closed up a while ago. My hip is a bit stiff, but if we don’t push ourselves too much, it should be alright.”

“If you say so.” Junmyeon doesn’t sound so convinced, but he doesn’t keep arguing against Chanyeol’s plan. They both know that it’s for the best- their time is up. But somehow, Chanyeol feels sad about it; the apartment, no matter how run down and sparsely furnished, has become a familiar place, a safe haven of sorts. He knows that mostly, it’s because of Junmyeon, who made a massive effort to make their time there comfortable. Perhaps he got excited, having a place to sort of call his own for the first time in his life. They cooked and ate real food here, spent hours talking together since they had nothing else to do, and slept on the same bed together. 

Kind of like a couple would.

It’s a shame to leave this behind, knowing that this will be their last stop like this before marching over to Busan and across the perimeter, but Chanyeol knows it needs to be done. In a way, it’s more merciful to rip it off like a bandaid, all at once, rather than linger in the goodbye for days before the time finally comes. 

They pack up all of their belongings. They don’t have much food, but they use the tap to fill up their water. That only takes them a while to complete, and as they wait for darkness to fall, Chanyeol works on his arm to fix whatever he can. It’s mostly just anxious fiddling right now; with his mind set on leaving, he’s now impatient to do so, and needs a distraction to keep still. Junmyeon sits near him, watching wordlessly, hours ticking by so, so slowly. But the heavy atmosphere isn’t just because of the impending departure- there’s something else to it, something more. 

“I wish we could stay,” Junmyeon whispers when they finally pull on their shoes and jackets to leave. “I… It’s silly, but I’ve never been quite so content… as I’ve been here. I’ve been free to do everything I wanted, whenever I wanted, explore outside, live like ordinary people do. With you right here… it almost felt like a home, you know. Like this could last.” 

“You weren’t free, though. You had to take care of me, especially in the beginning.” Chanyeol still isn’t sure how he feels about it- he isn’t used to being coddled or looked after, and letting small Junmyeon do that to him is something to process. “You had to come back to me, to feed me and nurse me.”

Junmyeon places his hand on his bicep gently, looking up at Chanyeol with his soft brown eyes. “I was free,” he whispers. “I could have left you here- gone on without you, or stayed out on my adventures. I took care of you because I wanted to. I’ve never had a choice, you know. With my master, I had to cater to his every whim, do his bidding no matter what I wanted. See to his needs, serve him, obey him, even if it meant sitting on my knees next to him for hours as he’d entertain guests. Take care of him when he’d get drunk, and take care of him when he’d be hungover the next day. Bathe him, if it pleased him, or help him get dressed. I never had a choice, and I hated it, hated even touching him. But you didn’t make me. I did it because… because I care about you. It’s different.” 

Chanyeol reaches out to brush his artificial fingers over Junmyeon’s cheek. “I’m sorry I was too stupid to realize there was a difference,” he replies. “I’m glad that I didn’t remind you of your master, you know.” 

That makes Junmyeon laugh. “Silly,” he murmurs, “of course you don’t remind me of him. You’re a good person, and you treat me nothing like he ever did. Trust me… if you reminded me of him, even just a little bit, I would not let you touch me like this… wouldn’t like you like this.”

He should respond with something meaningful. It’s not a complete surprise- it just shatters the wall of denial Chanyeol has been desperate to build, to suffocate his feelings for Junmyeon to death so he wouldn’t have his heart broken later. But even staring into Junmyeon’s eyes, reading all the emotion there, he can’t bring himself to do it. The words- they don’t come.

Despite everything they’ve been through, this is what scares him the most. 

“We should get going. We have to walk at least an hour or two before we can set up camp and sleep until the morning,” is what he settles for, and turns away as not to witness how Junmyeon’s expression might change hearing that. He feels sorry, and guilty- but what else is he supposed to say?

He said he’d protect Junmyeon, and protecting him from his feelings is part of that. Besides, there’s no point in allowing Junmyeon to get any more attached when they will be separated anyway. 

It’s just as pointless as dreaming about a better future. 

The hallway is empty and dark as they leave the apartment, carefully closing the door behind them as not to make any sound. It makes Chanyeol feel even sadder than he thought it would- to know that this is the last time they’ll see that apartment that they for a short moment could call their home of sorts. But he does his best to harden his expression, to give none of that away. 

Junmyeon walks behind Chanyeol and the hover sled, still not fully operational because they couldn’t find all the necessary parts to fix it properly, steering it from behind to make sure it doesn’t knock into anything as they descend the stairs. It’s completely silent in the building, a clear sign of how empty it is. Chanyeol can only shake his head, thinking back to the weird conversation he had with the owner. It’s so obvious now that the guy was up to no good, no matter what that may have been. But it’s nothing to worry about anymore- they’ll be gone, and the old man will have no idea about what happened.

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Chanyeol reaches out to grab Junmyeon’s hand and squeezes it briefly. “It’ll be alright,” he murmurs. “Just a little longer, and our journey will come to an end. You can really get started on your new life as a free man.” He drops Junmyeon’s hand as quickly as he had grabbed it, and steps outside as the sliding door opens in front of them.

But they don’t make it even two steps into the outside world. 

Chanyeol doesn’t see it coming- it’s just a whirlwind of motion, as someone barrels into him from his blind spot and shoves him down on the ground harshly, before landing on top of him. He tries to roll over, push himself back up on his feet to fight back, but his attacker knocks all air out of his lungs and then lands a hard punch directly to his jaw, which sends him reeling. And it’s not just one attacker on top of him but two, three- and he’s quickly subdued, shoved against the rough pavement and held in place. When his backpack is torn off his back and the handcuffs go around his wrists behind his back, Chanyeol’s blood runs cold- these people are not just simple goons from a private mob of freelance hitmen. These are professionals, trained in combat and equipped for this- and without even seeing who attacked him, he knows who these people are.

These are professional soldiers. 

He’s hauled upright roughly with little regard for his comfort. Chanyeol grits his teeth not to make a sound, but he can’t help looking around them in panic to spot Junmyeon. But Junmyeon is right there next to him, also in handcuffs and being held up by soldiers twice his size, hoisted up so high that only his tiptoes touch the ground, one of the soldier pressing a hand over his mouth to stop him from screaming. 

Chanyeol knows better than to scream. It wouldn’t do anything- no one would help. No one would step in, when it’s the army. No one would be stupid enough to do that.  
A man steps out of the shadows- a commander, Chanyeol recognizes his badges. His first instinct is to spit in his face and his second is fear. He’s dealt with soldiers even after his departure from the army, but it has not gotten any easier. The fearful respect for authority that they installed in him, it wears off slowly. But he isn’t going to show it.

“My, my,” the commander tuts, eyeing them up and down. “The old man wasn’t pulling wool over our eyes after all. I was going to take him in for lying to us if his words proved to be false, but here you are. The little slave and his keeper.” 

Chanyeol can barely bite back his curses. He would not have guessed that this is what the owner had in mind- that he would rat them out to the army. Most people loathe to have anything to do with soldiers and the government, because it usually brings trouble to everyone involved, and Chanyeol didn’t expect this. Didn’t prepare for this.

“Scan their irises to make sure we got the right people,” the commander tells the soldiers. Someone steps forward and takes out a small device from her pocket; it’s small enough to fit on your palm, but Chanyeol knows what it’s for. Iris scanner- because while fingerprints can and do change, and DNA tests are too cumbersome for field equipment, scanning eyes is the quickest and safest way to identify people. Chanyeol stares into the scanner as it’s held up to his face, simply allowing it to happen because there’s no use in fighting it. Closing your eyes is no hindrance to the technology, so there is no point or purpose in that.

The scanner beeps, and he can see how the soldier holding it raises her eyebrows. “Park Chanyeol,” she reads. “Enlisted in 2355, escaped from duty in 2358. Equipped with a biomechanical arm, potentially dangerous. Thought to be dealing with illegal goods. Living under an alias or aliases, current identity not known.” 

The commander leans in closer to Chanyeol to inspect him, even yanking his sleeve up to see his arm properly. “Fucking piece of filthy scum,” he hisses. “Deserting your position and leaving your duty? I’m glad we caught you, so you can have what is coming to you, son of a bitch.” 

Chanyeol doesn’t entertain him in any way, just stares back at him as blankly as he can. It’s no use to engage in banter and threats- he’s helpless here, and nothing he could say would make any difference. The bastard seems completely brainwashed into the military and government’s ideology, and Chanyeol knows there’s no bursting that bubble. 

In the meantime, the soldier has also scanned Junmyeon’s eyes. “Kim Junmyeon. Property of prime minister Chung. Currently running away from charges of embezzlement of government funds,” she reads off of the machine. Her words make Junmyeon’s eyes widen like he can’t believe it to be true.

“Government funds?” Chanyeol can hear from his tone just how shocked he is. “That isn’t- that isn’t true! I have done nothing against the government, please! How could I have, I’m just a slave, nothing more!”

The commander’s smile is almost smug. He’s exactly the type of soldier Chanyeol grew to loathe in his time in service; he’s one to relish in what he thinks is punishing the guilty, and one to believe that everyone is guilty of something. “Then how do you explain stealing and hiding over three million, right before your disappearance, boy? From an account directly under the jurisdiction of the ministry of industry and technology? If that isn’t embezzlement, then I surely don’t know what is.”

That is enough to make Chanyeol’s jaw drop as well, although he’s quick to rearrange his expression into one of distant disengagement once more. From Junmyeon’s explanation, he had thought the money came directly from the prime minister- something of this scale never even crossed his mind. But he doesn’t doubt for a moment that Junmyeon told him the truth; it’s obvious that Junmyeon had no idea about this. Clearly, he didn’t know what account the card he used was tied to, although it does sound slightly peculiar that there would be a card associated with a ministry’s account… But perhaps they have an account for entertaining big bosses in big companies, or something of the sort. Chanyeol wouldn’t know. 

But he does know that this has bad news written all over it. Messing with the government means that whatever punishment is coming Junmyeon’s way, it’s going to be severe. Decades in prison, millions in fines. Junmyeon is done for, and he seems to know it too, with his mouth twisted into an ugly expression of disbelief, fear, and desperation. 

The only comfort Chanyeol could give him is the knowledge that he’s equally screwed. Escaping from duty also calls for serious consequences- and he’ll most likely be faced with the death penalty, he knows as much. Betraying his country, smuggling, and forging ID chips all mean that he won’t survive this alive. 

They’re both done for.

The commander’s pleased smile is making Chanyeol itch to punch him. “Throw them in the van, and let’s go. We have to take these two to Busan perimeter stat. Prime minister Chung is very impatient to have them caught, I can assure you, so hurry up.”

Junmyeon and Chanyeol are dragged to the vehicles, where their arms are tied down with rope on top of the handcuffs, ensuring that they won’t be able to use their arms for anything. They’re thrown inside with little concern for their wellbeing, attached by their handcuffs to the wall and strapped down with seatbelts that look more like harnesses. It’s an complete overkill, for holding someone like Junmyeon imprisoned, but Chanyeol assumes that it’s because of him. They think he’s dangerous, and they’re not taking chances with him- it’s laughable, because Chanyeol has yet to recover from the accident, and even if he could use his arms he would never be a match to all these soldiers. 

The doors are slammed shut, and the engine starts soon after. Although they can’t hear or see anyone here, Chanyeol has no reason to believe that someone isn’t listening and monitoring everything; there must be cameras and mics here somewhere. Not that it matters what they say now, though. 

Their time has run out, and the game has ended with them on the losing side. 

Junmyeon is crying, and he keeps tugging on his bindings, jerking his body back and forth although it’s to no avail. “No, no,” he whispers frantically, shaking his head. “No, please don’t take me back to him… not him, not master, no, please, I’ll do anything… Please don’t bind me, it hurts, please, let me go, please don’t do this, please…” 

Chanyeol realizes with a start that being tied down is probably triggering something terrible for Junmyeon, and he has a lot to fear from possibly seeing his master again. He can’t reach him, not from the opposite side of the car, and as much as he hates saying anything when these bastards are listening, he knows he has to do at least something. 

He can’t bear to listen to Junmyeon’s frantic cries- and he knows he’ll do anything to save Junmyeon, no matter what it takes. 

He won’t just roll over and let this be the end. 

“Junmyeon, shh,” he hushes him, willing his voice to stay level and soft despite the turmoil of emotions inside him. “Junmyeon, breathe. Hey, listen to me, alright? They won’t give you back to him, I’m sure. They can’t. If they’re going to charge you with embezzlement, they have to put you in prison. You won’t go back to your master, I promise.”  
Junmyeon snivels his nose, but he does pause his panic attempts of pulling free. “You… you think so?” he asks. He doesn’t sound comforted, but Chanyeol doesn’t expect him to. This situation is far too dire for that to be possible. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “He has to be still in Lost Seoul, anyway. If anything happens, at all, you’re going in to prison. It’s… It’s not same as being free, but at least it’s better than slavery.” 

Junmyeon manages a small smile, twisted but still there. They both know how twisted it is, that this is what Chanyeol has to offer in the way of comfort- but it’s even more twisted that it works.

“In case I never see you again,” Junmyeon suddenly says, tears still streaming down his face but his gaze more focused now. “In case this is the last time… we’re ever together like this… I want you to know that you changed my life. You changed me. You gave me so much- more than you’ll ever even know.” 

This sounds like a goodbye, and Chanyeol doesn’t want it- but his heart yearns it too much to refuse it. 

“And even if this is… the end,” Junmyeon carries on, “even if this is as far as you could take me… I’m grateful. I got to taste freedom, and it was sweeter but also more bitter than I could have ever imagined. Even if my flight was this short, I’m grateful I got to experience it… the world as it is, the true reality, and love. I got to love someone, even if this once. And for that, I’m grateful. I regret nothing.” 

His words, they make Chanyeol’s chest feel so tight, his heart and soul alight with the power of Junmyeon’s confession. It’s so, so incredibly, profoundly sad- yet there’s certain promise in those words, as well. A promise that what little they had time to share, the thoughts and feelings that Chanyeol tried to wish away… they meant something. They were enough.

It’s just that the universe wasn’t ready to let them be happy.

And as much as he loathes to do this while others are listening, when this could be used against them or mocked by others, he knows that he must say something. At last, the time has come for him to also confess- no matter how scary, this could be his last chance to do so, and he can’t hurt Junmyeon so terribly as not to tell him. 

He deserves to know. It’ll mean something, even if their time is running out. 

“I haven’t spent this much time with anyone in years, a decade almost,” he says. It takes tremendous effort but he knows that Junmyeon is worth it all. “I haven’t allowed anyone this close. Physically or otherwise. You’ve… you see me. You see me through the biomechanical parts and through the walls I’ve put up to separate myself from the world and the people who’ve hurt me. You see me… and somehow you’re not afraid. I’ve never experienced that, and I didn’t think I could want that. But I do, and I’m grateful. I’m grateful you saw me, Junmyeon.”

It’s so insufficient- Chanyeol really is no poet, and still, even after all this time of thinking about it, he doesn’t have the words to shape his emotions into something more concrete. But somehow, it seems as though Junmyeon understands; the look in his eyes, once again fully seeing Chanyeol for what and who he is. And it leaves Chanyeol so helpless, so bare that it’s scary, but also in what could be the final moments of their time together, that fear means nothing. 

He could be dead tomorrow. Now, there’s no reason to be afraid. 

And yet, it isn’t enough closure- it doesn’t feel like their story has been fully written, yet. Like there are parts missing, and the arc hasn’t been fully completed. Yet for the reminder of the ride, they stay silent, for anything more they could say here, would still not be it. It wouldn’t be the end, and they’ve said enough. Enough to find peace, even if not closure. 

But that sense of this somehow still being incomplete, it fuels the drive in Chanyeol to make one last effort to at least break Junmyeon free. How, when- he doesn’t know, but he’ll try.

The vehicle finally comes to a stop, and they’re taken outside, dragged through the cold, massive garage of a facility of some kind- an underground parking lot, although mostly empty since vehicles are so few and far between. But none of them are military grade, Chanyeol realizes- they’re not for the military, not even civilian use. Whatever this place is, it’s not an army base or a military facility. It’s partially a relief but then it only raises more questions for him- where have they taken them, and what for?

They’re taken inside, and then separated as Junmyeon is taken through one door and Chanyeol another. He can hear Junmyeon calling out for him, screaming his name, but Chanyeol just grits his teeth together, doesn’t let his eyes focus on anything. He’s already shown enough vulnerability to these bastards, and he isn’t going to let them see anything more. If this is the last he sees of Junmyeon… he will have to make peace with that, somehow. 

To his surprise, the room he’s taken into is a hotel room. It doesn’t make much sense, but the soldiers act like this is perfectly normal. He’s thrown into a chair and tied down there, even more rope wrapped around his body to hold him down.

The commander steps up in front of him, leers at him with a twisted expression. “You disgust me, soldier Park,” he barks. “Betrayer. You know that there’s no forgiveness for pieces of shit like you? Running away from the army to do what, smuggle other people’s property out of the city gates? You were never cut out to be a soldier, were you Park? Some people, you just can’t train the bad traits out of them. Do you not even feel bad for the resources wasted on you? That arm could have been given to someone more deserving, instead of you.”

It’s all baits, to make Chanyeol riled up, and the punches do land. It all stings, but he isn’t going to admit it- isn’t going to show weakness to the commander, no matter how much he spits in his face. He could scream his voice hoarse, but it would do nothing. If there’s one thing he’s learnt, it’s to choose his own battles. 

The commander glares at him and kicks his chair, but obviously disappointed by the lack of reaction, turns away. “Tell minister Chung’s people that the two are finally here,” he tells one of the soldiers. “The sooner they’re done here, the sooner we get to leave.” 

“Yes, sir,” the soldier replies, and then they all follow the commander outside, clearly satisfied that Chanyeol will remain in his place even if they’re not watching him. And it’s certainly true- Chanyeol tests his bindings, trying to push and pull what he can, and they’re not moving an inch. He knows these methods, knows these knots, and they’re solid. He’s stuck.

Looking around the room, there’s nothing there to help him either. There’s a neatly made bed in the middle, walls painted in non-offensive beige, and the windows are covered with panels that show a beautiful image of the ocean with stars shining above it, conveniently omitting how the ocean is covered in plastic and the stars are hidden by the lights of the city. The top of the dresser is completely bare and everything is smooth, empty, rounded- there’s nothing there that could be even a little bit useful, and Chanyeol knows it.   
He isn’t going to escape with brute force, or with his physical abilities. It’s going to take something else. 

He doesn’t have to wait long, before the door opens again. But this time, in walks only one man wearing civilian clothes. Expensive, and of good quality, Chanyeol notes- makes sense, if he works for the prime minister. But it’s his face that takes Chanyeol back, and truly sends him reeling; it’s a man he never thought he’d see again.

Kim Minseok doesn’t seem so surprised, although he’s looking at Chanyeol intently, estimating him, judging him. He must have known to expect him, even if he can’t hide how curious he is about him. “It’s been a while, Park,” he says, and sits down at the foot of the bed with a sigh. “I honestly didn’t even think you were alive, you know. No one ever makes it this long after running away.” 

He’s right. No one ever successfully escapes the military. You simply don’t do that. The army has eyes everywhere, they monitor everything. Everything you do leaves a trace, and the military, with the government, they’re always watching. For Chanyeol to have escaped their tendrils for this long, it’s a miracle, but it also speaks for his eye for detail and level of caution in everything he’s done. 

“Guess I got caught at last,” Chanyeol murmurs. He knows he should remain silent, but Minseok… they used to be comrades, when they were serving. They always got along well, because they understood how the world around them functioned. What was expected of them, and how to play along with those expectations. How to stay afloat, but not get too involved. It was that mutual understand that created respect, although opening up about any personal matters was never an option. The military frowns upon personal relationships, because those could stand in the way of rational decisions and loyalty to the government.

“I guess you did. And you’ve gotten yourself in quite the situation.” Minseok says it like it’s no different than the weather forecast. He’s always been matter of fact, and straight to the point. It was another thing Chanyeol could respect about him- he wore no masks, in a world where everyone else was hiding behind one to avoid revealing something that could be used to hurt them later. He was one of the few people that Chanyeol met in the military that felt real. Was real. 

He didn’t trust him, but he respected him. 

“Well, life on the dark side ain’t easy,” Chanyeol responds with. “But it doesn’t seem like you’re with the military either, judging by your clothes. You work for prime minister Chung now?” 

Minseok nods. “Got recruited into his personal group of trusted men,” he explains. “Most men he has are idiots, but he does get lucky sometimes. I take care of personal matters for him. Things of more… gritty nature.” 

“The army wasn’t gritty enough?” Chanyeol scoffs despite his desire to feign disinterest in everything happening. “Not enough idiots running around and getting people killed?”  
If Minseok is in any way startled by his words, he doesn’t show it. “The military is full of power hungry idiots with no plan for what to do with that power, if it falls into their hands.” He shakes his head and sighs. “And that, that is the real issue with it. Reckless mistakes are made because people are so blinded by their own greed. No one is fighting for a united cause… They say they are, they say we do it for the government, and for the people, but that’s a lie. No one is thinking anything but themselves, and how to get more powerful.” 

It’s true. Chanyeol saw it one to many times; innocent being killed because of foolish decisions made by ignorant generals looking for profit or trying to prove something to people even higher up in the hierarchy, or soldiers being slaughtered in poorly planned raids into vessels or buildings housing highly dangerous criminals. People starving to death because the soldiers confiscated their rations for the soldiers, villages and towns being burned down to chase out criminals that were supposedly hiding in there. Mere children being forcefully recruited into the troops to fill quotas, and grueling training to kill off those that couldn’t be fed or clothed when supplies ran short. Raiding illegal ships for goods and delivering them to Lost Seoul or Pyeongyang, to be delivered to the rich and powerful so they can maintain their easy, luxurious life. Unlawful executions just to show how merciless they could be, meaningless revenge using ordinary soldiers as pawns in struggles for power between greedy generals. In his years of service, Chanyeol saw it all, and it still haunts him. 

He can’t forget, and he knows that Minseok hasn’t forgotten either. 

“Is it any better being a private mobster for someone directly responsible for the chaos?” He doesn’t mean to sound so bitter- he’s only angry with the government, and the military, not the people who have become cogs in the system. He used to be one as well, and sometimes it still feels like he’s still stuck in the poisonous webs of it all. Even the illegal goods he smuggles, most of them fall into the hands of the same people he so despises. 

Minseok gives him a noncommittal shrug. “Less blood of the innocent on my hands, now,” he says. “Less people I have to hurt. His private matters are usually less convoluted than this, you know. It’s not so bad. It lets me imagine that all those awful things, they’re not truly happening. That the world isn’t so rotten.” 

“Yet here you are, to kill me and Junmyeon.” Chanyeol’s voice almost cracks as he says Junmyeon’s name, but he manages to maintain his composure. “I’m not innocent, that is for sure, but Junmyeon is. I don’t know much about prime minister Chung, but he certainly was a bad man to that boy.” 

This time, Minseok’s sigh is full of regret. “I know,” he admits, “Park, I know. I saw it with my two eyes. Heard the screams, when he was punished for something. Saw how much he feared- how much he hurt. He was innocent, but then he did what he did… my hands are tied.”

But Chanyeol senses that his chance, an unlikely one, has showed itself now, a glimmering hope that barely survives. “Is it true that it was government funds?” he asks. “Is that why this is such a big deal now?”

“Yes. It’s not really about the money- it’s a lot of it, sure, but it’s pennies in the grand scheme of things. But it sure makes Chung look bad, you know. That his slave did such a thing, and then ran away without a trace and he can’t even find him. The money’s gone- we can’t track it, and we’ve tried everything we could. Your friend’s good, you know. Vanished off the face of the world after the raid- the guys should have caught him, but no.” Minseok seems partially amused, partially frustrated with this. Chanyeol is relieved to know that Yixing has managed to stay in hiding- it explains why there has been no word from him.

“So you’ve caught Junmyeon to help save the bastard’s reputation,” Chanyeol counters. “One more innocent person dies in your hands, just so that the wealthy don’t have to face the consequences of their actions. Like he hasn’t suffered a lifetime sentence of imprisonment already. Hasn’t he been punished enough?”

Minseok sighs again, and rubs his hand over his eyes. “I didn’t come here for a lecture on morality,” he huffs, “I came here to interrogate you before talking to the boy and then sending you both away, Junmyeon to Chung and you to the nearest army base. What are you trying to do, make me feel guilty for doing this? You said it yourself, you’re not innocent. I checked your file. You’ve lived a life of crime, Park, not to mention the things you did during your service.”

“I’m not innocent, but Junmyeon is. I’m not bargaining for myself, I’m bargaining for him.” Even though he doesn’t know if Minseok is a man you can bargain with, especially when he has nothing to offer him. “What good is it gonna do to this world to kill him off?” 

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you,” Minseok says dryly. “You love him, Park, isn’t that what this is? I can’t show up in front of my boss empty handed, you know. The guy’s an idiot, but not blind.” 

It’s horrifying to be called out in this manner, by someone who Chanyeol doesn’t want to know any of his weaknesses. But just the fact that Minseok is even entertaining him, having this conversation with him, means that not all hope is yet lost. 

“Say that you had to kill him on the spot here,” he counters. “Say you lost your temper, or something. Or that you let the soldiers have a little fun with him, things got out of hand, that kind of thing. Lying is easy, Kim. Deceit is easy. You just have to know what you’re doing, how to cover your tracks.” 

Minseok stands up, begins to pace across the room in short strides. “You’re suggesting that I get involved in a crime that I had no part in,” he says with an accusing wag of his finger. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? If I get caught, that’s it for me. I’m done for. Are you two even worth it? I don’t think so.” 

It’s really not a bargain, if Chanyeol has nothing to offer in exchange. 

“You could have the three million that Junmyeon stole,” he says, licking his lips nervously. It’s out of his mouth before he can think about it twice, and it makes his heart sink; he really wanted that money, wanted to buy himself that nice arm and invest in a safer future somewhere far away. Giving it away just like that, it does hurt- it hurts a lot, and a part of him wants to take it back. But he knows that it’s the right thing to do- besides, he’s not going to spend a dime of that money if Minseok doesn’t make a deal with him. He’s going to be dead, and then it will all be meaningless. 

Minseok’s eyes light up just minutely, before he spins around to hide his face from Chanyeol. “Three million…” But Chanyeol can hear from his voice that he’s putting on a show, faking his disinterest. It’s a number that most people can only dream of in their lifetime, and he’s ready to bet that it’s a big deal even for someone in Minseok’s position. Close to power, but still out of its grace. “How’d you transfer that to me?” 

“With my phone. I have it sprinkled around on different accounts but, sending it all over shouldn’t take long- although you probably want to set up some side accounts, first. Sums like these, they can gather some attention.” It’s so simple, really- it could all be arranged just like that.

Now it all hinges on Minseok, and his morality.

The silence lingers, as Minseok continues to pace back and forth, back and forth. Chanyeol keeps his eyes on him, but tries to keep his expression neutral. His desperation could perhaps tug at Minseok’s heart strings, but it could also annoy him, rile him up, so he pretends to be indifferent. Man of Minseok’s caliber isn’t going to be swayed by emotional blackmail- but he could feel bad enough about killing an innocent soul that he might cave in. 

“Do you expect me to save you, as well?” Minseok suddenly asks, turning to look at Chanyeol with one eyebrow raised. “Somehow get you out of this mess, as well?”

With the question worded like that, Chanyeol isn’t sure what Minseok wants to hear. He shrugs his shoulders as much as he can with how he’s tied down. “It’d be nice,” he replies, and it makes Minseok scoff, amused. “But I don’t know if that three million is only worth the trouble of letting Junmyeon go. That you will have to decide for yourself. It wouldn’t hurt though, would it- you just tell the soldiers here that you got orders to take me with you to Lost Seoul. Prime minister Chung probably expects me to end up in the army’s hands, he won’t ask any questions. They will be none the wiser for it.” 

“The boy wouldn’t get caught so fast, if he was with you.” It’s not even a question, and they both know it. It’s unlikely Junmyeon would make it very far on his own, which is all the more dangerous for Minseok. “Where were you going to take him, after you crossed the perimeter? He’ll never be safe in this country, no matter where you take him. Not even here, inside the perimeter. Busan is an autonomous region, not independent. He’s still a criminal here.” 

So they did cross the perimeter. It’s good news- crossing the border was something Chanyeol had been worried about. The perimeter consists of a wide zone of small towns slowly merging together into the city of Busan, with several walls running through the region separating it into defense lines. Getting Junmyeon through any of the walls and the checkpoints was going to be difficult- but now he doesn’t have to do that. They’re in Busan, beyond the perimeter, in the autonomous port city. 

Even if Junmyeon has to go on without him, it’ll make things easier for him. 

“Junmyeon was going to go to Japan.” There’s no point in lying. “Getting him out of the country seemed like the only sensible plan.”

Minseok tuts, clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “Japan is a bit close,” he replies. “A bit too close for comfort- but they don’t like us very much, so they wouldn’t be so keen on handing Junmyeon over. He could probably apply for asylum, too, but that could make headlines, and then what? I’d get caught for my lies.” 

Chanyeol’s heart is almost hammering its way out of his chest now with excitement, even though he tries to hold it back. Just because Minseok is entertaining the idea, making plans and arrangements in his head, it doesn’t mean that he’s committed to it yet. But it’s obvious that the promise of that money made a world of difference. 

“Then no asylum. There are ways- there are other ways. Isn’t half the country completely deserted anyway? It shouldn’t be so hard to find a peaceful place to stay. I can pull some strings.” He doesn’t have connections, but Yixing does. “It’ll sort itself out. We’ll vanish without a trace.” 

“Running away without a plan doesn’t seem like something you’d do,” Minseok counters. “That’s not how you stayed alive this long, is it? Or are you telling me that all this time, you’ve just been winging it?”

That makes Chanyeol crack a slight smile. “When I first left the army, I had no idea what I was doing,” he confesses. “Sneaking out and running away, all that was so simple- in the middle of nowhere, discipline gets kind of slack. But I wouldn’t lasted for long had it not been for the guy who gave me the idea to leave in the first place. But that was back then. I’ve learned a lot- seen a lot. I know how these things work, now. Trust me.”

Minseok cusses under his breath. “Why do you sound so convincing, even after you’ve been tied up and dragged here like a lamb for slaughter?” He sounds like he doesn’t know what to make of it, even if he’s slightly impressed. “What the hell, Park? You know, you could have done amazing things, had you stayed. A man with a mouth like that, you could be doing a lot more than just smuggling liquor and slaves.” 

Despite his fear, despite his exhaustion, Chanyeol does laugh at that. “I wasn’t destined for greater things, and we both know that. We’re both like that- we’re not subservient and obedient enough to keep groveling and blindly following orders until we’d earn those promotions. Life on this side, it’s been tough, but it’s been worth it. So, do we have a deal?”

Minseok turns his back to him again, and silence settles into the room once more. Chanyeol knows he’s asking a lot- he’s asking Minseok to risk everything he has. No matter how fool proof their plan is, which it really isn’t, there will forever be a chance that Minseok gets caught. It’s something neither of them can control, and Chanyeol can’t promise him any safety nets apart from the money he’s going to pay him. 

It was enough to get him on this journey. It was enough to make the risks worth it to him- Chanyeol thinks back to that time in Yixing’s office, with Junmyeon seated opposite from him, bargaining with him. Begging for his life. How small and scared he used to be, so powerless yet so determined. And how much he’s grown since then, how much stronger he’s become… how much Chanyeol has come to treasure him, cherish him, wish to protect him. 

It’s like the circle is now closing, when that same money could buy Junmyeon’s freedom the second time. Possibly also Chanyeol’s, although he used to think that money would benefit him in drastically different ways. 

He also used to think that after this gig, he would carry on with his life as usual. Return to everything like nothing ever happened. He knows now that is not an option, no matter what Minseok decides to do. 

Minseok spins around, and Chanyeol can see on his face that he’s made up his mind. He’s seen that expression before- and it oddly reminds him of Junmyeon, even though Minseok has probably never known pain and fear like the slave boy has. 

“I’ll leave this room, and return in thirty minutes,” Minseok says slowly, pointing at Chanyeol with two fingers. “I’ll take the boy to my car, deal with the soldiers and whatever else. When I get back, the money better be in my name, or I’m going to execute you myself by shooting you in the face. Do you understand, Park?”

It’s a convoluted answer, and there’s not a single ‘yes’ anywhere in that, but Chanyeol understands. It’s not clear if he’s bought freedom for both of them- but he isn’t going to ask. Isn’t going to risk changing his mind by demanding too much. For as long as Junmyeon gets to safety, it’s alright. 

“If you set me free, I can do that,” he replies as calmly as he can. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good.” Minseok wastes no time in undoing the bindings, even his handcuffs, although Chanyeol can tell he does brace for an attack once Chanyeol is completely free. But there would be no point in that, for Chanyeol, because he cannot get outside of this hotel on his own. He needs Minseok, and he isn’t going to betray him.

“Thirty minutes, Park. Be ready. I’ll lock the door from outside with a lock of my own, so no one can come in while I’m gone. Can’t risk anyone seeing you like this.” Minseok reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a small device- it’ll attach itself to the lock, and make it impossible to open the door with anything but Minseok’s key or password. It’s smart thinking for sure, because the commander could come in at any moment to see how Chanyeol’s interrogations are going. He also takes out a small card that he slips into Chanyeol’s hand. It has multiple chips on it on every side, something that Chanyeol has never seen before. 

“All my bank accounts,” Minseok gestures towards the thing now resting on Chanyeol’s palm. “You know, I’m really not that kind of guy who can live with just one bank account. I’m not a stranger to shady business. Your phone’s on the table there.”

That makes Chanyeol grin a little, and nod his head in acknowledgement. Clearly, he underestimated Minseok earlier. “Thirty minutes will be plenty,” he assures Minseok, and watches him leave the room. He doesn’t seem nervous, which is a relief; it speaks for how securely Minseok has made up his mind. It’s good- he doesn’t want to see him hesitating, thinking better of this. There’s no going back, now. 

His hands are steady as he reaches for his phone, and swipes it open. There’s that taste of regret at the back of his tongue, a voice in his ear that keeps repeating how unfair this is. That he has to be the one to buy their freedom. Buy Junmyeon’s freedom. Right when better life was just out of reach for him, just beyond the horizon. But Chanyeol ignores it, as he uses the fake ID chips on his arm to log into his different accounts, and one by one, empties them all to Minseok’s accounts. One by one, until they’re all empty. The three million that he only could dream of, it’s all gone now. Like it never existed. 

This is why he doesn’t dream, doesn’t hope for anything. Doesn’t dare; because he’s always let down, somehow. 

But it had to be done. For Junmyeon’s sake, if not anything else. 

Even if he could have bought only his way out of this mess, he would not have been able to go on with Junmyeon’s blood in his hands. Just like Minseok, he’s tired of killing innocents; tired of killing people he loves. 

He’s left with extra ten minutes, before Minseok comes back. He uses the time to first drink his fill from the bathroom faucet, filling up his stomach as much as he can. Who knows how frantically they will have to keep moving from here on out- he’s lost all of his gear, all of his supplies, and he doesn’t even know where to go from here. To the harbor, probably- they need to get out of the city immediately. But how… the question keeps ringing in his head. 

He’d take the rope, at least, maybe the covers on the bed to use for shelter if necessary, but when Minseok walks him out, it’ll have to look like he’s transferring a prisoner. He can’t take anything. He has nothing but a clean slate, and blood hounds at his heels. He has to keep moving, even though he doesn’t know the way. 

There’s a certain thrill to that, no matter how uncomfortable. 

Eventually, he can hear the lock rattling, and Minseok slips into the room looking no worse for wear. “Hurry up, I’ll put you back into handcuffs and tie you up,” he says with no preamble, and Chanyeol doesn’t ask him. Doesn’t ask how it went- if Junmyeon is safe. He’ll get his answer soon enough. 

Minseok pockets his card as well as Chanyeol’s phone, and quickly redoes the ropes around his arms with practiced ease. But Chanyeol can tell a difference there, as the ropes aren’t so tight as they were previously. This time, it’s not for real. This is just a game of pretend, smoke and mirrors. 

He keeps his head down as Minseok walks him through the hallways, but they have to stop in front of the elevators as they wait for one to come up. It’s then that footsteps approach them; Chanyeol glances to their direction, and his blood runs cold upon seeing the commander walking up to them. His face is stern, his lips pressed into a thin line, and he can’t quite keep his emotions out of his voice when he addresses Minseok. 

“Agent Kim, what are you doing? Where are you taking my prisoner? I have to take him to the base, if you’re done questioning him. There was never an agreement you could take him somewhere.” 

He’s probably upset about the possibility of losing on a promotion that bringing in someone like Chanyeol could earn him. Chanyeol doesn’t blame him- he understands the world and its rules under which the commander operates in. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to take a swing at him, though, preferably with his blades out. 

Minseok doesn’t seem rattled in the least. “I’m doing this on the orders of the prime minister himself,” he says, voice full of authority that hits soldiers like Chanyeol and the commander deep. “He wants to see him in person, before he’s handed over to your people. You’re not in a position to tell me otherwise.” 

The elevator dings, and Minseok pushes Chanyeol inside. But the commander isn’t done yet, stepping in with them with his arms crossed over his chest. “He belongs to me,” he insists. “I caught him, and I take him to the base. He’s my case, my responsibility. It’s the law. Soldiers who break the rules are to be convicted by the military. The prime minister has no power here.”

“He has the power to ask to see the man first, before he’s handed over,” Minseok snaps back at him, clearly running out of patience, and it does make the commander jerk back. “Park isn’t registered in the Busan base anyway.”

“The laws within the military are all the same, no matter the base,” the commander grumbles, but he seems to have given up. “I caught him, I should be the one to bring him to justice. I want to execute him myself, agent Kim. “

Minseok scoffs at that. “Well, I’m sorry you will have to sit this one out.” 

The elevator dings, and the doors open to the garage that Chanyeol saw earlier. There’s a black vehicle parked at the back, and Minseok leads him towards it. The commander, though, is still following them, and it’s starting to make Chanyeol anxious. Why is the guy so keen on not letting him go? Does he really want that promotion so badly?  
Minseok appears to feel the same way. “Commander, I’m not going to argue about this any further. He’s to be taken to the prime minister, and nothing you say is going to change that. He’s not your responsibility anymore. Go back to your base. I’m sure they have more important jobs for you than being a stubborn idiot about this.” His voice is not amicable anymore, his irritation shining through loud and clear. 

The commander doesn’t say anything, but then halts, even as Minseok and Chanyeol keep walking forward. “Fine,” he snaps at last. “Fine, agent Kim. Since you’re above the law!”

“Not above the law, but above a meager commander like you.” Minseok doesn’t even bother to glance over his shoulder, and roughly shoves Chanyeol inside the van, pushing him into the darkness with no preamble and shutting the door behind him with a loud slam. 

“Ch-Chanyeol?” Junmyeon’s voice comes as a mere whisper from the darkness, and Chanyeol scrambles up on his knees hurriedly. 

“Shh, quiet,” he hushes him, “we don’t want the commander to hear us. Keep quiet, for now.” 

He can hear Junmyeon’s heavy breaths in the van, and then the car jostles as Minseok slams the driver’s side door closed as well. The engine starts, and the vehicle backs out of the parking space before pulling out of the garage. The back of it stays completely dark, however, which is only safer that way- no windows means no one can see what’s being transported inside it. 

Chanyeol shuffles forward on his knees, trying to locate Junmyeon in the car. He wishes he had his hands free, but of course Minseok couldn’t undo the bindings. Not with the commander watching. “Junmyeon? Where are you?” he calls out, unable to quite keep the urgency out of his voice. 

“Over here,” Junmyeon replies, his voice unstable, frayed, barely keeping his fear under control. “Chanyeol, what’s going on? Where are they taking us? What’s happening?” 

“No, no, it’s alright, it’s alright,” Chanyeol murmurs as he hurriedly crawls over to Junmyeon, who’s seated on the bench attached to the wall of the van. Minseok is driving to erratically for him to get up on it though, constantly taking turns and slowing down before speeding up again, undoubtedly weaving through traffic on the way to the harbor. In a major port city like Busan, vehicles transporting goods from the ships are quite common, unlike the empty roads in the rest of the country. 

Instead, he shuffles in between Junmyeon’s legs, and leans forward until he can feel Junmyeon’s warmth. Junmyeon shudders and leans into him as well, pressing his cheek against Chanyeol’s in an effort to seek comfort.

“What do you mean it’s alright,” Junmyeon whispers. “How is it alright? Where are they taking us?”

“It’s just one guy,” Chanyeol whispers back. “An army friend- I made a deal with him. He’s saving us. He’s taking us to the harbor. We’ll be free. It’s alright, it’s over. We’re free, now.” 

“What?” Junmyeon is right to not believe that, although he doesn’t pull away from Chanyeol, instead pressing impossibly closer. Chanyeol widens his stance despite how hard it is on his knees, and nuzzles Junmyeon’s bare skin tenderly. 

“I made a deal with him,” he repeats. “He doesn’t want someone innocent like you to suffer. He’s taking us to the harbor, and he’ll hide our tracks. We’ll be safe. We’ll sail to Japan… We’ll be alright.”

“But… But why? How did you… What?” Junmyeon sounds all the more confused. “How did you make such a deal? And are you really- are you really coming with me to Japan?” 

It was never the plan, but it is now, Chanyeol realizes, the weight of it truly hitting him now. “I can’t stay here,” he replies. “It’s too dangerous for me now. And you will be safer with me. You can’t get caught now, you see, otherwise Minseok is going to be in trouble as well, and we don’t want that. We’ll be together. At least until you’re safe and settled.” Because despite everything, it would be unfair of him to assume Junmyeon wants a future with him- wants him to stay. He might have said so… but he might not want it now, when it could actually become reality. 

“As for the deal… I knew him when I was in the military. I knew he was the same as me- he hated it. He now works for the prime minister, actually. But he still doesn’t like innocent blood on his hands… And I gave him something to make the risk worth his while.” He doesn’t want to admit it, doesn’t want Junmyeon to know, but he can’t lie. Not now, when Junmyeon is so fearful and panicked, rightfully so. 

Junmyeon reads between the lines almost instantly. “You paid him off,” he says, “you bribed him- how much, Chanyeol? How much did you pay?”

“Three million,” Chanyeol whispers, and there’s a lump in his throat. The reality that the fortune is all gone, it’s heavy. It’ll take a while to fully accept it, to stop mourning it. He won’t regret this- but coming to terms with it, it’s not so simple. 

He can feel how Junmyeon freezes in his grasp, although he doesn’t pull away. “Chanyeol…” and the tears, they don’t seem so far away. “Chanyeol…”

“Don’t say anything.” Junmyeon probably will, later- but now is not the time. Not the chance to be vulnerable, not any more than this. “Don’t say… anything. It’s for both of us. Both of our lives. If I hadn’t paid, I would have been executed in the military. So there was no point in holding onto it. I wouldn’t have gotten to enjoy it anyway. It’s alright. It was worth it.”

“You’ve… you’ve sacrificed everything for me,” Junmyeon whispers, barely audible over the sound of the engine. “Chanyeol… I can never, never thank you enough…”

“I said, don’t say anything,” Chanyeol playfully scolds him, in a futile effort to tone down the rampant waves of emotion. “It’s alright. It’s… not what I was planning for, but this is how things worked out, I guess. Junmyeon, you know I wasn’t happy- I wasn’t happy, just drifting from one place to another. I kept moving to avoid facing what was chasing me… my own demons. I wasn’t happy. Maybe this is my chance at finding something worthwhile. Something worth fighting for. Staying for.” 

It’s scary, but it’s a possibility- a new hope, if he dares to reach for it. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Junmyeon mumbles, but falls silent then, just resting close to Chanyeol. It’s been a long day- the night is almost over, the dawn of a new day upon them, and they haven’t slept in almost 24 hours. Yet their journey is far from over- Chanyeol doesn’t know when they’ll get a chance to rest, but it won’t be until they’ve found a ship that will take them on board. 

His legs are falling asleep from kneeling for so long by the time that the car pulls to a stop. The engine is turned off then, and they can hear the driver’s door open and close. It’s mere seconds later that Minseok opens the backdoor of the van, glancing around himself once before slipping inside as well.

“Gotta undo your cuffs,” he explains, as he switches on a flashlight. “It wouldn’t look good to do this out in the open.” 

Chanyeol can’t help but groan as his arms are released, his entire body aching and sore. He’s still not one hundred percent, and being stuck in one position for hours on end did him no good. He hauls himself up on his feet with great effort, every muscle in his body complaining, his legs like jelly underneath him and tingling uncomfortably as blood surges through his limbs. Junmyeon seems to fair a bit better, standing up on his feet more nimbly and looking much more alert than how Chanyeol feels. 

“I couldn’t rescue much of your gear,” Minseok says, pointing his flashlight at the back corner of the van. It’s Chanyeol’s backpack- significantly smaller than it were before, clearly having been emptied of most of the items. “Just some crucial items, and some mundane things.”

“It’s more than what I thought I had,” Chanyeol replies, as he picks up the bag and throws it on his shoulder. “So, where are we? Where’d you bring us?” 

“Close to a terminal at the harbor.” Minseok gestures vaguely with his hand, likely to the direction of the water itself. “I recommend you only try for ships with a Japanese flag, or a company name. No one should be on high alert or anything, but it would be suicidal to sail on a boat that follows the Korean government law.” 

This is no news to Chanyeol, who nods his head to show that he understands. “Well, I’ll take it from here. You’ve already done enough.” 

Minseok’s grin is almost ominous in the near complete darkness. “Yes, but I don’t want you to screw this up. If you get caught, I’m done for, remember? So I need you to make wise choices.” 

Junmyeon presses up against Chanyeol’s side, eyeing Minseok warily still. Without thinking, Chanyeol wraps his arm around Junmyeon’s shoulders. “Well, do you have any other advice, perhaps? Anything we could tell the Japanese, so they’d allow us on board?” Chanyeol doesn’t mean to sound snarky- but generic advice is of no use to him. 

“They’re not so adverse on taking people on board,” Minseok assures them. “Half of Japan is empty. People died of old age, and then they died of that awful, awful disease- there’s nothing much left, over there. Make up a convincing sob story, and just go. They’ll take you.”

It’s a great deal of uncertainty, but Chanyeol knows it’s all they can have. Trust and faith, they’ve never been a part of his vocabulary, but they must try. They’ve driven themselves to a corner here, and the only way out is on the ocean waves. 

Minseok turns and opens the van door, and leads Junmyeon and Chanyeol outside. The horizon is just starting to turn into ugly, painful hues of orange and reds, as the sun climbs above it, and the harbor is coming to life as well. Massive vessels lie in waiting, some unloading their cargo and some with humans like ants walking on the decks. The rotten smell of the ocean is so pungent here, almost as disgusting as the smoke in Lost Seoul, but it’s a promise- a way to freedom. 

“Hurry along, now,” Minseok urges, gesturing towards the building looming between them and the ships. “Walk in, and act like you know it. If you have to name drop, play your soldier card- they’ll stop asking questions and turn a blind eye, if they think you’re with the military. Now go, and good luck.”

“Thanks,” Chanyeol mumbles, before pushing Junmyeon along. He wastes no time in goodbyes or sentimental words- this is a business transaction, to him and Minseok, nothing else. There’s nothing to be said. 

He doesn’t look behind him, just keeps ushering Junmyeon forward. Towards their new future. The terminal building in front of them doesn’t seem inviting, but no one stops them at the door when they step inside. It’s not so busy, and everyone seems to mostly mind their own business, keeping their heads down. Although Chanyeol and Junmyeon obviously don’t belong here, no one cares. A lot of strange travelers must come through here, Chanyeol reckons. 

“Put your hood up. We have to figure out what boat to get on,” he tells Junmyeon, not taking his hand away from where it’s pressed against Junmyeon’s lower back. Junmyeon nods, and does as he’s told, although Chanyeol can feel the tremors going through his body.

They walk forward. There are signs there, although many of them don’t make much sense. Chanyeol is feeling quite unnerved, trying to spot something of use without looking like he’s panicked; he doesn’t want to appear lost, because that sticks out, yet he can’t help but feel like he’s in a foreign country already. 

“I’m not familiar with any of this,” he murmurs to Junmyeon quietly. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never been to a port.” It’s not easy to admit that he doesn’t know- doesn’t have a plan, but he’s come to respect Junmyeon so much. He knows now what Junmyeon is capable of. He needs to treat him like a partner, an equal, and no longer a paying customer he’s chaperoning around.

“I’ve been to a place like this before,” Junmyeon replies suddenly. He reaches out, slips two fingers into Chanyeol’s belt loops to hold onto him. “We need to find a board with all the departing ships listed. It should state the name of each vessel- there it is, look, that one over there.” 

“Once again saving us with your sharp senses,” Chanyeol mutters, steering them towards the screen. Just how Junmyeon said, it has the ships listed one by one, with their docking locations and departure time. Picking out the Japanese names from the list is no feat at all. 

“Couldn’t save us from the ambush, though.” Junmyeon keeps his voice low, but the emotion is clear. “Didn’t see any of it coming- couldn’t do anything, either. It’s thanks to you that we’re now here…” 

Chanyeol tuts gently, rubs his big hand up and down Junmyeon’s back. “Shh, let’s not talk about it. Not here, anyway. Later.” 

“Thanks to you, we have a ‘later’,” Junmyeon whispers, before pointing to the corridor to their right. “If I’m reading that list right with the map below it, the _Inari_ is over that way. It’s headed to Hiroshima. That any good for us?” 

“I’m not well versed in geography,” Chanyeol has to admit, even while he begins to walk to the direction Junmyeon pointed. “So, I’m not sure. But I think that Tokyo or wherever else might be too dangerous. Cities are easy to disappear in, but sometimes hard to enter.”

That makes Junmyeon laugh, for the first time since all of this started. “Hiroshima is a city, dummy,” he says, nudging Chanyeol lightly. “Although much smaller than Tokyo, I’m sure. Do you want us to disappear into the countryside, then? There’s lots of it, in Japan. It’s practically empty.”

Chanyeol hums quietly. The hallway is long, winding, but they can see the water from the windows, the sunrise growing brighter, sicklier by the moment. “Was that your plan? What were you going to do, once you got there?” he asks. “I wasn’t thinking this far ahead, so. I guess you’re now in charge. If you’ll let me come with you.” 

Junmyeon’s hand is warm as it presses against his ribs, the touch meaningful and loud in its simplicity. “Nothing would make me happier than to have you with me,” Junmyeon says gently. “And yes. Doesn’t countryside sound lovely? We’ll have our pick. Just take any old farmhouse as ours. Make a home there, start farming the land. All the fresh food we can eat- no more rations. Unless you have to be breathing in smoke, and dust.”

And the images come, unprovoked. Of an old house on the hillside, or maybe in a lush valley- a house like Chanyeol’s seen in the movies, in pictures of the Old World. Like the houses he’s seen, while wandering through the country, abandoned and cold. Humble, but tidy, cozy. A vegetable garden, and maybe a river to fish in. Snow in the winters, greenery in the summers. Silence, and clean air. No one watching their every move. Finally, freedom- and Junmyeon, bright and beautiful. Flourishing. Blossoming into a beautiful, fairy-like man, almost too ethereal to be real, perhaps with a loving smile and tender kisses, only reserved for Chanyeol.

All of their pain, forgotten. 

He doesn’t hope, he doesn’t believe, but he knows he wants this. And maybe, just maybe, he can allow it to exist- even if it’ll remain a dream. At least for the time being.   
“I would love that,” he replies, and he means it. Means it more than he can put into words. “It… It would be most wonderful.” 

Junmyeon doesn’t say anything, but the way his fingers dance on Chanyeol’s side speak of excitement. “That’s _Inari_ ,” he points out the boat that is slowly swallowing up the view from the windows, covering everything with its massive black hull. “Now we just need to somehow get on board.” 

“We can’t fail now,” Chanyeol replies, resolute. There are other vessels here that they could try- but it could rouse suspicion, make people curious. They have to do this at once.  
He’s put his life on the line before, and after what he’s been through today, this hardly feels like anything at all. 

They turn to the gate leading up to the boat, climbing up the ramp and stairs to get higher and higher, towards the deck of the ship. There’s not a single soul to be seen, no other sound of footsteps but their own. They don’t exchange a single word as they climb up, but Junmyeon’s hand slips into Chanyeol’s, squeezing his robotic fingers gently.

They see a staff member when they finally reach the top of the stairs. She’s leaning against the gate blocking off the hallway, looking bored, but stands up straight when she realizes that they’re approaching her. There’s a sign that says ‘no unauthorized entrance’, and an ID chip scanner placed there too. There is no real border control, here, because to enter the harbor you already have to go through one. Minseok’s rank got them through that, with the van unsearched. 

She flashes a brief smile, and does a short bow as well. Her uniform doesn’t give away if she works for the ship, or for the terminal- but when she greets them in Korean, Chanyeol figures that she probably works for the latter.

“We’re passengers on _Inari_ ,” he says easily, pulling Junmyeon closer. “We’re running a bit late, if you’d be so kind and let us through.” 

She cocks her head, although her face stays neutral. “Passengers? But it’s not a cruise,” she replies. “Are you sure you’re at the right boat?” 

“Yes, absolutely sure,” Junmyeon hurries to say, nodding eagerly. “We know it’s not a cruise, but it was the cheapest we could find, and a friend of a friend took care of it for us. We’re doing a little trip to Japan, you know, to celebrate. We got married recently.” The giggle he hides behind his cupped palm sounds all too believable- gone is the exhaustion and fear, replaced by joy and excitement. If Chanyeol didn’t know any better, he’d buy it too. 

It’s not a lie he would have chosen to tell, but when he sees how her eyes widen in earnest, he knows that Junmyeon did the right thing. He’s a lot smarter in social situations than Chanyeol is, he has to admit that. 

“Yes,” he agrees, throwing his arm around Junmyeon’s shoulders again. “A little honeymoon. It’s old-fashioned but, we’ve never been out of the country. A couple days abroad sounded like fun, even if we have to work to earn our keep on the ship. He’s been dreaming about a trip like this ever since he was a kid. If you could be so kind and let us through. We really don’t want any trouble, I just wish to make him happy.” He turns to gaze down at Junmyeon, smiling at him as tenderly as he can, reaching up with his left hand to gently stroke his cheek. The affection comes so easy too- it’s what he wants, and not another game of pretend.

The girl nods eagerly, and without any hesitation, hurries to open the gate for them. “Yes, yes, oh I’m so happy for you,” she exclaims, stepping aside. “Not many people get married anymore, it’s always so special! I hope you guys have a fun time. Come back safely, yes?” 

“Yes, of course,” Junmyeon chirps, patting her arm as they walk past her. “We’ll bring you something, when we get back. You never know when you need a special gift for someone.” 

“Oh, that would be so nice,” the girl replies, sounding pleased. “My name is Sunhee, just ask for me if you don’t see me.” 

“Nice to meet you, Sunhee,” Chanyeol says, before they turn a corner and she disappears out of sight. They keep silent as they walk forward, once again by themselves in what feels like a ghost ship- but they’re on board, and now they need to either find a place to hide, or someone to take them to shelter. 

“Newly married, huh,” Chanyeol can’t help but murmur once he’s sure the girl is out of earshot. “How ancient are you, dummy? She’s right, no one gets married anymore.” Most people just settle for registering their partnership- it’s just a slip of paper that only comes in handy when your partner dies. Marriage is for the romantics, the once who wish they were living in the Old World. But somehow, it feels special- that Junmyeon would think of him, and marriage together. Even if it was just a made-up story. 

Junmyeon blushes slightly, a sign that he, too, is feeling more relaxed now. “Well, she seemed like the type to be excited about something sappy like that,” he defends himself with a playful huff. “It’s not a story you can easily question, either.”

“I guess you’re right.”

It takes surprisingly long to run into anyone. Ships are mostly automated, and don’t need many crew members, which is proven true as Chanyeol and Junmyeon keep wandering in the hallways. But eventually, a man appears around the corner, and he’s seemingly quite startled to see them there. They obviously don’t belong there. Chanyeol lowers his shoulders and tries to seem as amicable as possible, greeting the man as politely as he knows how. 

The man replies in Japanese, speaking too fast for anything to sound even remotely familiar. He sounds a bit upset, too, and he just keeps talking more impatiently when neither Junmyeon or Chanyeol replies to him.

“Sorry, we don’t speak any Japanese,” Chanyeol tries, but the man only keeps on using Japanese. His brows draw together and his mouth twists, and as another question goes unanswered, he reaches for the phone in his pocket, swiping the screen to open it and no doubt about to call someone.

“Hey, we mean no harm,” Chanyeol can’t help but try one more time, stepping forward and reaching for him, but that only makes the man appear even more agitated, hurriedly bringing the device to his ear as he waits for someone to pick up, backing away from them with his free hand held up in front of him in a gesture that very clearly says, ‘don’t come closer’. 

“Seriously, we’re not looking for trouble, we just want to get to Hiroshima. That’s where you’re going, right?” But the man just stares at him like he’s grown a second head, and Chanyeol is growing nervous now too. If the man is upset with them, and he makes others upset as well, they’ll probably get thrown out like cockroaches. 

His first instinct is to grab the man and wrestle him to the ground, possibly even kill him, to make sure he can’t get them into trouble. But just as he takes another step forward, Junmyeon grabs him by the arm and says something in a language Chanyeol cannot recognize. But it makes the man look up, and then after a moment of hesitation, respond in similar tone. 

Junmyeon says something else, and gestures between him and Chanyeol, then around them. Says something else, hesitates, and then continues. The man listens with a frown on his face, but nods his head slowly when Junmyeon is done talking. But he does put his phone down, turning it off, before he continues with a sentence, a question, lilting at the end like he’s not so sure he’s saying the right thing.

But Junmyeon nods, and says something new, even smiles slightly. The man nods, and then turns around on his heels, gesturing for them to follow behind him. 

Chanyeol opens his mouth to say something, but Junmyeon squeezes his wrist and shakes his head in warning. Chanyeol presses his lips together, and resists the urge to demand to know what’s going on. He doesn’t like being kept in the dark- but he knows he has to trust Junmyeon. Junmyeon got them into the ship in the first place- whatever he’s doing right now to keep them on board, he has to just let it happen. 

It’s not easy, every inch of his being tense with anxiety, but he pushes through it, drawing comfort from Junmyeon’s touch.

The man leads them up and down hallways, before finally coming to a halt in front of a door. He says something to Junmyeon and Junmyeon responds in kind, before the man opens the door with a passcode. More incomprehensible words are exchanged between the two, as the man holds the door for them, and once again every instinct is telling Chanyeol not to walk through there but he has no choice but to trust. Blindly trust, and hope.

For a man that doesn’t believe in either of those, he’s been doing a lot of it today. 

Junmyeon steps through first, and Chanyeol follows, although on high alert, ready to bounce if the man should try to slam the door shut behind them to trap them inside. But no such thing happens- the man steps through behind his heels.

It’s a small room, with a bunk bed bolted to the wall, and with a small drawer and a shelf attached to the opposite wall. There are screens mounted at the end of the beds, probably TVs, and a small window that looks out at the sea. There’s a small door near the entrance that could lead to a bathroom- Chanyeol isn’t sure how these things work on ships. But it’s a bedroom, it clearly is, no matter how sparsely furnished. 

The man says something, and Junmyeon nods, smiles, bows. Chanyeol hurries and does the same, although that makes the man laugh- he knows that Chanyeol doesn’t understand what’s happening. He gestures at the door and says something more, before he turns around, and leaves. The sound of the lock sliding into place makes Chanyeol’s heart stop, however, and he rushes to the door and twists the handle- only to discover that he can, indeed, still open it. 

“It’s locked from the inside, not from the outside,” he murmurs, unable to hide his surprise, and Junmyeon lets out a shaky laugh. 

“He promised us shelter,” he assures him, grabbing him by the arm to pull him back further into the room. Chanyeol comes easy, almost docile, although still on high alert, his mind and body still not quite so convinced that they’re safe. That this is alright. 

“What did you tell him? What language were you speaking?” he can’t help but wonder, but lets Junmyeon guide his arms around him, holding him close. It’s so comforting to have him near, feel his warmth, feel his chest rise and fall- he’s never craved to feel someone like this, yet here he is. Wanting, even if ever so cautious and scared of how easily that wish could turn into heartache. 

Junmyeon looks smug for a moment. “English,” he replies. “They teach it at schools, in Japan. I told him the truth- that we’re running away, and need to get to safety. That we’ll cause no harm. We just need to get away. He promised we’ll be safe here. No one will ask questions.”

Chanyeol can’t help but be alarmed by that. “He believed you? Just like that? Promised to take us on board like it’s nothing?” It’s too good to be true. Since when has telling the truth gotten him anywhere? Since when has he been truthful with anyone, ever?

Junmyeon reaches up to cup his cheek, smiling fondly as his thumb brushes beneath Chanyeol’s eye. “He saw that I meant it,” he whispers. “He saw that we were scared. Some people are good, Chanyeol- some people can be trusted.” 

It’s against the very core of his being. Everything he’s ever learned in life, experienced in life, has taught him not to trust. But he’s done it- he’s trusted Junmyeon, trusted Minseok, and now, he has to trust a man that he doesn’t even share a language with. And to think that the very man who taught him to believe in good is someone who has so little reason to hold such faith- who has known nothing but pain, all his life. 

“Let’s hope so,” he mouths, the words fading away in a shaky exhale, as he pulls Junmyeon in closer and buries his face in his hair, just cherishing this moment; he survived to see another day, another day with Junmyeon by his side, and come what may, he can rejoice now. Even if it’s scary, even if it feels like he’s scorning the gods and begging for punishment, he can.

And later, when _Inari_ departs from the port and sails away, leaving Korea behind, Chanyeol and Junmyeon stand on the deck to watch their homeland slowly disappear behind the horizon. It’s an overwhelming sensation- it’s all Chanyeol has ever known, a country where he thought he’d live and die, forever trapped in the tendrils of the government and smelling the smoke of Lost Seoul. 

He’s started over before. He’s given up all he’s had, before. But not like this- not knowing if he’ll land on his feet. Not knowing what awaits him, in the destination. 

But this is how fate decided it, he thinks, blinking as something stings in his eyes. Somehow, his path in life took him here. Perhaps it was only a matter of time- perhaps it was meant to be. 

“Do you think we’ll ever see Korea again?” Junmyeon sounds teary, and he’s holding onto Chanyeol tightly, his hands balled into fists. He’s shivering, the wind harsh as it tugs at them and their clothes, urging them to return indoors. The smell of the ocean is putrid, rotten and vile, the thick layer of plastic floating on top encapsulating all sort of dying organic material from fish to seaweed. In a way, it’s the smell that makes this seem real- it would be impossible to imagine such a thing, Chanyeol thinks. 

“I don’t think so,” he answers honestly. “We can’t come back… they’d have our heads, if we did. This is it, Junmyeon. Say goodbye, now.” 

“Goodbye,” Junmyeon waves his hand once, before turning around to look up at Chanyeol, his frown melting into a smile no matter how fragile. The emotion is there- but so is the determination, the one that Chanyeol remembers so vividly from the time they first met. Some things, at least, haven’t changed, no matter what they’ve been through. 

“I’m so, so grateful you’re here with me,” Junmyeon murmurs, reaching up to touch Chanyeol’s face once more. “I know… I know that whatever is between us, is new and strange to us both. Scary, too. And we don’t know what awaits us… But I’m grateful I have you, no matter what. No matter what becomes of us. I’ve never known love but if I had… If this is it… then I think, I think I’ll be happy. With you.”

It makes all words get caught up in Chanyeol’s throat, clogged up and all an incomprehensible mess, just how his emotions are, so instead of words, Chanyeol swoops in to press a kiss on Junmyeon’s lips. It isn’t magical, but it’s real- raw and true, just how they are to each other. Are learning to be, even if every step forward is faltering and unsteady. And it feels right. It feels like a promise- that despite the uncertainty, they’ll be here.

Together, they’ll make it through anything, or die trying.


End file.
